The Long Day in Ibiza: A Story of Speedos, Sex, and Mystery in Three Parts, Part I

Notes to readers:

1. This story is longer than I had anticipated, but please don't be daunted by its length. It's broken into chapters for piecewise reading, and throughout all these there is plenty to titillate most every imagination.

2. Please don't repost without asking.

3. It will take some work to finish the last two parts. I welcome any comments, encouragement, and inspiration. If you've got some favorite speedo pictures of any kind (provided, you know, they're not of minors and whatnot) feel free to pass them along. They really help with the writing process. Also, I'll be sure to let interested readers know when the next installments are posted.

4. Enjoy.

--James (swimmingcock81@yahoo.com)

Part I: 8 a.m. to Noon

From the very start, it was a strange day.

I was achingly hungover, facedown in the sheets of a bed I barely knew, and wincing as my ears were assaulted by the blare of the morning news. Or so I assumed that's what I heard; I was never very good at Spanish.

"...y todos estan muertos...que lastima...Miguel?"

"Si, Gloria. Ahora una noticia de una nueva ley de M.W. Sandoval, el joven..."

It was a peculiar form of torture. I knew just enough Spanish to decipher every other word or so they said, and so my tired, throbbing brain was unwillingly and uncontrollably using what little energy it had left to attempt to translate.

"...y es posible que esta ley puede abrogar el derecho a matrimonio homosexual en Espana..."

That big was easy enough. "Matrimonio homosexual." Good old Spain, I thought. The Pope can visit all he wants and shake his bejeweled finger in your face, but you still let a fag be a fag. God bless you and your dark-skinned beauties.

A sudden clank from the bathroom distracted my sorry attempts at translation. I immediately realized that among the sounds pressing hard on my weary ears was that of the shower running.

"Billy...Billy!" I called, to no reply.

Probably jerking off, I thought. And that bastard loves leaving splooge on the shower wall...

"Billy!"

Still nothing.

I turned to the nightstand to check the time. The clock, wherever it was, had been replaced by a pair of lime green speedos and a plain gold ring. Neither were familiar. I picked up the ring and rolled it between my fingertips, letting the morning sun illuminate its polished surface. An assortment of dings and scratches suggested it wasn't new, but yet it had clearly been well cared for. It made a satisfying tap as I set it back on the nightstand.

"Billy!"

Damn that bastard. He could be the most oblivious airhead sometimes.

I swung my legs out of bed and, as I did so, caught a glimpse of the TV that made me stop. They were still going on about "matrimonio homosexual" and among a collage of clips-the usual tuxedoed gays kissing, stern priests shouting, red-faced politicians banging their fist-I thought I saw something distinctly familiar. Again my sputtering brain was called to work on what should have been a day off. But before it offered any helpful data my attention was thrown in another halting direction, this time drawn to something in my own crotch: I was wearing my fucking underpants.

Or so I called them. They were black briefs, cut low with a thin pink trim along the waistline. Made of cotton or some such fuzzy and loose material, they drooped ever so seductively when loaded with my heavy package, causing the waistline to dip invitingly and the top of my ass crack to appear. I never wore them out of my bedroom, but if I brought a treasured enough find back home, and the mood seemed ripe for a private lap dance, the fucking underpants made an appearance.

My addled brain, however, had nothing to say when I tried to remember who had deserved such special treatment the night before. Billy would have to help with that information, and I quickly decided I wasn't about to wait for him to finish his endless wank-session.

"Goddammit, Billy!" I yelled as I bounded for the bathroom. "If you just wait thirty minutes you can find a real person to jerk you-"

Midway through swinging the bathroom door open, I froze. It was no wonder Billy hadn't replied.

Standing in the bathroom, sleek and lathered beneath the showerhead, was a vision of Spanish beauty. Lithe yet muscled, his body spread up from his narrow waist along the ridges of his tight stomach towards his firm, compact pecs and smooth, rounded shoulders. As he shifted his balance beneath the hot water his already full ass swelled to bubbly perfection and the muscles of his smooth thighs flexed beneath his rich, dark skin. For a moment I caught a glimpse of his cock, hanging heavy and thick beneath his trim black bush.

When I opened the door his face was in his hands, but the noise of my intrusion caught his attention. Quickly a stern face of dark eyebrows and full, pursed lips emerged amidst the steam. No sooner had this probing stare set my heart pounding than a puckish grin of white teeth and squinting, playful eyes broke across his face, welcoming me wholeheartedly. I was stunned. Here was sultry seduction and giddy playfulness in the same beautiful, youthful face-written across the same deep brown eyes and button nose.

At this point my brain surrendered. Ask no more questions of me, it begged. My cock was left in charge, and it immediately began rising to take control of the situation.

"Chur fucky underpaints," he said with another white smile.

I smiled back, though not understanding a word he said. He seemed to realize this.

"I like," he began, slowing down his accented English for my benefit, "fucky underpaints."

To further clarify he pointed at the growing hard-on in my black briefs.

This should have been more than enough to decipher what he said, but I was momentarily distracted by the way his muscled shoulder flexed when he raised his soapy arm to point. Finally, I made the connection and smiled again, like a fool.

"Gracias," I managed to say.

He laughed-a small, quiet, sexy laugh-and then spread both his hands up across his face and into his dark hair. As he did so his back arched and each of his abs seemed to pop, as did his two hard nipples, and for a moment he was pure sculpture.

I stood there dumbstruck and wished profoundly that I could be any of the droplets of water coursing along that hard, muscled body and its smooth, dark skin.

"Very tired?" he asked as he saw me staring.

"What?" I blushed at being caught. "Um, yes, very tired. Too much alcohol for me last night, I think. Uh...demasiados...bebidos para mi, anoche." I clumsily pantomimed drinking with my hand and instantly regretted it as he laughed quietly at me yet again.

"Oh, ees too bad, then."

"Ha ha, yeah," I said, nervously agreeing and smiling along with what he said.

But now he wasn't smiling. "So you are too tired for, then...?" And during an endless, pregnant pause he dropped a hand to his side and then slowly slid it around his ass cheek, slipping his fingertips into the crack of his ass. All the while his probing, brown eyes held my gaze with no seeming intention of letting go.

Suddenly my mouth felt dry. I swallowed and took two steps towards him, my toes now up against the edge of the bathtub. The warm spray of the showerhead misted across my hard chest. My eyes were locked on his.

"Bien," he said with a small smile.

His arm dropped to my crotch, and his strong, wet hand began kneading my balls and my half-hard cock. It was only moments before I was fully hard and he was cupping my fat cock through the damp fabric of my briefs.

For those first few moments we stared at each other, him holding my eyes like a stern tamer of animals and me trying desperately to remember just what I had done with his body the night before.

Finally he leaned with his shoulders and his soft lips met mine. His touch was surprisingly delicate, and his tongue slipped into my mouth slowly, with care and almost, you could say, grace. Here was that experience that, although I'd had it several times before in Spain, continued to thrill me to my bones: the dark, smoldering Spaniard, seemingly all lust and power, coming upon me gently, like a feather, hard and eager to take, but soft and begging to give. I took care to caress his tongue with mine in his gentle manner, but I was no match for his patience. Eager and horny, I voraciously moved my lips about his.

Delicate too was the touch of his hot, wet hands as they slipped about my sides and, drawing me to him, brought my body flush against his. The sudden rush of warm water across my chest sent a jolt through my body. The water rushed down the muscled cleft of my pecs and, finding our stomachs locked together, gushed around them before trickling down our smooth thighs.

The sudden onslaught of heat and steam and flesh and tongue had me disoriented. I trusted his hands, now wrapped about my firm ass checks, to hold me steady as I slipped my tongue further and further into his warm mouth. I did, however, notice exactly where my hard cock was: pressed tight between our groins, my cocktip hard up on his hip, kept from his skin by a thin layer of wet fabric. And I noticed his, too. Its growing hardness was drawing its tip up along the inside of my smooth thigh before its shaft touched my heavy sack and was pinned there as it swelled and swelled.

I leaned back, reluctantly breaking our kiss, so I could free his rising cock. It was thick, full, and beautiful. I wrapped my hand about its generous girth and brought it up against my stomach. Smiling, he took care to extract my own cock and balls from my briefs and bring it up along next to his. Our fat cocks side-by-side, under a flow of water and in between two muscled stomachs, was a sight to see. Before I could admire it for long he had wrapped his arms around my shoulders and his lips around my mouth. Now nearly every muscle of his body was hot against mine. He started grinding his hips into mine and our cocks, lathered and wet, moved along the tight tunnel between our hard abs. I grinded in return and threw my head back at the sensations from my cock. Instantly, his warm mouth found my neck and covered it in wet, massaging kisses.

This couldn't last long, I thought. I was unprepared for this encounter, and my morning wood was particularly sensitive. I tried to draw my attention away from the feel of his warm stomach muscles against my hard cock. I bit his lip and hoped he'd return the gesture. Laughing, he nibbled back at my lower lip. I tried to focus on that sweet pain but still my cock pulsed.

I began moving my hands along his strong backside. I tried to put all my attention and sensation into my fingers, which followed the muscles of his back down to his huge, firm ass cheeks. I grabbed those, spreading my hands wide to grasp them in the palms of my hands, but his reaction to this was to grind harder and make my cock even more tender. So I put more strength into my hands and began kneading his ass cheeks, my fingertips moving deeper and deeper into the cleft of his ass. Quickly enough I felt the tight pucker of his asshole. Suddenly his gyrating stopped and his back arched, opening his crack wider for my eager hands.

Yet my problem wasn't solved. I probed one fingertip directly against the center of his hole and he let out a cooing sound that nearly made me come right then. I couldn't trust my cock up against his flesh, so I made a move.

In one quick motion I turned his body around and dropped to my knees. He let out a small moan and then, as best I could tell from the side of his face, broke into a wide grin. Now I was staring down his pretty pink hole and my hard cock had a brief respite as it throbbed under the fall of hot water.

I wasted no time in lodging my jaw deep between his muscular ass cheeks. I spread his cheeks wide with my hands and stretched my tight tongue tip right up to his entrance. After gently stroking it a few moments with my tongue, I dug my face deeper into his ass and found a depth where I could probe his more completely. His hole was tight and twitchy. Each time my tongue landed on its mark his hole would spasm and a moan would ring out over the sound of the gushing water that ran down his back and along his ass crack.

His moans made me confident, and I began to scheme to put him as close to coming as I was. Taking a hand off his ass, I reached up and found his heavy balls and throbbing cock. I began working over his shaft. I tugged tugged its ample length and delicately tapped and grasped his sensitive cock head. The moaning grew louder. Soon I felt his hand grab mine and, unsure at first of what was happening, smiled into his ass crack when I felt his hot spit hit the palm of my hand. I quickly wrapped it about his shaft and began pumping again, his rod passing smoothly inside my curled hand.

Soon enough both his ass and cock were twitching and his moans were building into low shouts. When I looked up I saw his head back, the water falling on his neck and shoulders and cascading down his back. At any moment I expected to feel a familiar pulse in my palm and see his cum hit the shower wall.

However, in a sudden motion he stepped forward, pulling his body from the grasp of my hand and the probing of my tongue. I looked up and met his eyes, which no longer had either playful mischief or smoldering desire in them. There was a sort of frenzied desperation in them. His mouth, it seemed, was struggling to find the right words to say.

"Fuck, fuck...fuck!" he both begged and commanded, now prying apart his ass cheeks to show me yet again his hole slathered in my spit.

"Yes?" I asked.

"Jes. Fuck fuck."

And with that he turned his head away from me again and leaned his arms above his head against the shower wall.

I frantically scanned the bathroom for a moment before finding lube an arm's reach away. I coated my cock in an instant and rose from my knees behind him.

Before so much as touching him, I found myself pausing to take in the sight before me. A full, firm ass punctuated with a pink, puckered hole bent over before me. A backside of dark Spanish skin and smooth muscles, mine for the taking. I looked down at my throbbing cock and begged it to wait just a few moments longer.

Finally I brought a lubed fingertip to his hole. To my surprise, this was met with a grunt. His hand shot back behind him and forcefully grabbed my cock, aiming my cocktip at his hole. So no preliminaries were necessary, I thought. Fine by me. Dipping my hips and pointing my cock, I pressed my hard cock head into his warm hole.

I pushed slow through his tight, smooth tunnel. My eyes instinctively closed as the sensation overwhelmed me. The grip of his body was completely consuming my dick, somehow taking control of me. It was with a start that I realized my bush was tickling his ass and my full length and girth was buried inside him. I paused, our connection deep and complete, and let him feel me while I felt him.

I began pumping slowly and fully, taking my cocktip just outside his hole with each stroke. Each time I pumped in he moaned and, to my surprise, so did I. Soon my pace quickened and my ass was flexing hard to propel my dick into his ass. His moans became yelps, and I slowed my rocking hips. But this was no good for him, or so he indicated with a hand that wrapped about my backside and slapped my ass cheek onwards.

A satisfying slap rang out each time my crotch and thighs crashed into his ass cheeks. I was pounding hard now, so hard that I need to hang onto his waist lest I slip in the tub. He shouted, but his words were completely incomprehensible-probably even to those who knew Spanish. He arched his back and rocked his hips with my thrusts, craving all the cock I had to fill him with. I happily obliged and pushed harder, burying my shaft deep into his muscled frame.

To my surprise, he came first. I heard a gasp louder than the rest, felt his body jolt, and then saw around the side of his torso a glob of pearl cum oozing down the shower wall. His breathing became heavy and his body shuddered. I slowed my pumping, partly to give him rest and partly so that I could peer around his body and watch as he jerked the rest of the jizz from his cock. However, once again he had no patience for this and slapped my ass with another demand for speed.

I myself was not far from coming, and when he turned his head and found my lips I found I had little time left at all. His kisses transferred to me the delirious, sweaty daze of his own ecstasy, and I immediately was brought under its sway. I began pumping harder than he had ever commanded, my hips positively slamming his backside, my cock plowing his tender passage. Once again he arched his back and offered the full depths of his hole; I banged harder and harder into him.

Momentarily distracted by the force of my fucking, I soon felt a swell of sensations from my cock. An instant later, I felt that happy surge from my balls and, my body halting tense and taut, I emptied my hot load inside him.

He cooed and rubbed his hands along my thighs as he took my jizz. I let fall my arms and head onto his shoulders, utterly exhausted. His warm, wet skin was a perfect pillow.

But I was not allowed to rest long. Soon his massaging hands found my ass cheeks and began directing my tender cock in a course of slow and steady pumping. I followed along, my overworked cock quaking along every millimeter of his tight hole, and as I did my warm cum slowly seeped out of the tight seal between my shaft and his hole and oozed down the inside of his smooth thighs. As I kept pumping I reached my hands up around his front and grasped his firm pecs. He placed his hands atop mine and bowed his head beneath the water, making space yet again for my weary head to rest on his shoulders.

And so we stood for happy eternity beneath that hot water, his tight body massaging my swollen rod.

He looked no worse when dry.

As he bent over to slip into his lime green speedo, I beheld him again, head to toe. The morning sun, spilling between curtains into the room, made his fresh and clean skin appear to glow. In a body as defined as his, each movement was a complex working of muscles, a flexing underneath his brown skin. His thighs as he crouched, his back as he bent, his biceps as he pulled up his tight speedo and tucked his cock inside-all were mesmerizing.

Finally he stood, his package roundly filling out the front of his low-cut speedo, and smiled at me.

"I see you today?"

"Hmm?"

"La playa, the beach. You come today?"

"Oh. Sure, sure. I think so." I nervously retightened the towel around my waist. Doing so I noticed my cock was half-hard again.

"Bien."

He looked about the room, his expression for the first time bashful, even awkward. It, like the others that preceded it, was an expression that sat well on the fine, beautiful features of his face.

"I think I go, then. Is OK?"

I was barely paying attention, hoping for another moment to stare down his dark nipples and rigid stomach-to sear in my memory the shape of his full bulge.

"Yes, sure. No problem. Here. Let me get the door."

As he made his way out my cock twitched with the realization that the only clothing he had brought with him to my room was the small piece of nylon around his ass and cock. How far was he going in an outfit like that? Of course, such are the joys of Ibiza: boys in speedos nonchalantly walking along sidewalks to buy cigarettes and tropical fruit.

With a start I realized he had brought one other small scrap of cover for his body. I raced to the nightstand and back to the doorway as he crossed the threshold.

"Wait, your ring!"

A flash of sunlight illuminated an inscription inside the band. Ha, I thought. So that's his fucking name!

He had turned around and watched as I approached.

"Here, Wistan," I pronounced the name slowly and with a poor attempt at a Spanish accent. "Don't forget your ring."

He paused. Then looked curiously from my eyes to the ring and back to my eyes.

"'Chur ring?' Thees ees not mi anillo."

"What?"

"Who ees Weestan?" He shrugged his brow thinking for a moment, then smiled. "Chu think I am Weestan?"

"What? Umm..."

He laughed. "I am Ignacio. No Weestan."

I stared blankly at him.

"Ees a nice ring, though. Weestan is lucky."

"Yeah," murmured to myself, staring at the ring. Where the hell had it come from?

Ignacio looked ready to leave again. To save some face, I turned the tables on him.

"OK, Senor Ignacio."

He was smiling at my playful tone.

"Jes?"

"If you are Ignacio, then who am I?" As I spoke I took a step forward and began softly stroking his arm.

His body tightened as I approached, and he puffed up his chest to meet my joking challenge. He leaned his face forward, his nose an inch from mine.

"Chu are el rey," he said, before leaning in to give me a slow kiss. When he finished he put his lips by my ear and translated:

"The king."

And then he turned around and began a slow, proud saunter down the hallway and out of my life, his ass cheeks flexing with each step.

The king? I'd been complimented on my cock before, but never like that. I stepped back into my room with an enormous, satisfied grin stretching across my face. I threw my towel off and my body down on the bed.

What can I say? I proudly thought to myself. I'm just good at what I do. Many have come to partake of the treasures of my body: the smooth tanned physique of a professional diver encased in its sundry muscles, curvaceous biceps, round and full shoulders, hard slabs of pecs, rigid abs, thick thighs, an enticing bubble-butt that threatened to snap every speedo I wore. They come to admire my sandy blonde hair, ice-blue eyes, full lips and white smile. They come to see the heavy balls and giant cock promised by the sight of my overloaded speedos. They come to jerk, blow, suck, fuck. And most of the time, they get just what they came for.

And so on and so forth I sang the praises of my twenty-two year old body as I rested, legs dangling off the end of the bed. Unfortunately, at least as far as my throbbing ego was concerned I was soon pulled from my reverie.

First I thought they were pieces of the ceiling falling down onto the bed, so I rushed to the doorframe for cover from an imagined earthquake. Standing there, I looked across the room and saw what was really happening. Small rocks, pebbles really, were arcing into the room through the narrow opening in the sliding door. Their launcher had good aim, for only once did he throw wide and hit the glass door with a precarious clang.

I wrapped the towel back around my waist and made for the sliding door and the balcony beyond it. Stupidly, I assumed no one would dare throw pebbles at me.

"Dammit!" I shouted as one hit me, albeit rather painlessly, square in the chest. I threw an arm in front of my face and stepped out onto the third storey balcony. The glare of the more sun obscured my vision for the most part, and I realized I had made myself an excellent target.

But no more projectiles came my way. When my eyes adjusted I began scanning the street below. It was empty, save a Coca-Cola truck unloading its bounty halfway up the block.

"Ignacio...Ignacio!" I said in the loudest whisper I could create.

"Over here, dude!"

"Billy?!"

"Yeah, bra, over here."

My eyes scanned frantically and then saw, rising from behind a hedge across the street, a waving arm.

"What the fuck are you doing down there?"

"Dude, come down here."

"What?" We were both doing our best not to wake up the inhabitants of the fifty or so hotel rooms that faced the street we were talking across.

"Come down here."

"Wait...why? You come up here."

"Nah, man, you HAVE to come down here!"

I groaned in annoyance. "Alright, alright. Two secs." I made for the sliding door but Billy's voice stopped me.

"And, dude?"

"Yeah?"

Hesitation hung in the air before Billy's next words.

"Bring some clothes."

"Jesus," I muttered under my breath with a smile.

"So they were just there next to you when you woke up?"

I was quizzing Billy as he, now fully clothed, shoveled eggs and sausage into his mouth in the restaurant of the Hotel Molino. Out the window beside our table a hillside of cinder-block apartments and hotels descended to Figueretas Beach and the light blue collar the Mediterranean cast about the island of Ibiza.

"Dude, not next to me. Fucking on top of me! And they were fucking huge."

"Wait, how many were there again?"

"Shit. I didn't count 'em all. At least six."

"On one bed?"

"Yeah. I mean, it looked like we passed out in the middle of fucking. This one dude had dried jizz all over his face and was just sleepin' away like it was no big shit or anything."

I laughed at the thought. A little too loud, it seemed, for the other half dozen or so early risers in the restaurant looked our way, staring longer than they usually did to check out our bodies.

"Dude, it was intense. Full on muscle daddies. All hairy and shit. Pecs the size of your head."

"Old guys?"

"I dunno. Thirties, probably, so not really. Fucking hot, though, man. Fucking hot. I did not get why people found those crazy, jacked-up meathead types so hot, but shit, I get it now."

"Good fuckers, huh?"

"Unbelievable fuckers." His eyes grew wide with those words.

I couldn't help but picture Billy, the swimmer to my diver with his long and lean body, caught between two hulking, hairy beasts. It was not only the sight of those disparate bodies that had me smiling to myself, but also the thought of Billy, the platinum blonde, overprivileged surf child of Orange County, stuck between two grunting, no-nonsense muscle bears.

He slipped a whole hard-boiled egg in his mouth and started to move his hands and speak frantically.

"Nis wun die, oh mar Gar, oh mar Gar."

"What?" I smiled at the spectacle.

He paused a moment, swallowed a huge lump of egg, and tried again.

"This one guy-holy shit-this one was holding me up, my arms around his shoulders-all that shit-, and fucking me for like half an hour straight. I thought the veins on the dude's arms were gonna explode."

"I would think your asshole might explode too."

"Haha. No shit, dude. But I gotta tell ya'."

"What?"

"Those dudes can be, like, tender and shit."

That, and the sincerity with which Billy said it, was the sort of thing that made me laugh at and love him time and time again.

He was bashful and smiling as I laughed at him.

"Hey, fuck you, alright," he said as he threw a muffin at me. "It's the fucking truth."

"Who knew the secret to true love was beards and anabolic steroids?"

"Dickhead."

We both smiled and set to eating again. After a minute or so Billy spoke.

"So this Ignacio dude, did I ever meet him? At the beach or something? Where'd you pick him up."

"Well," I paused a bit. "I actually don't really remember meeting him at all."

Usually Billy would laugh at a detail like that, but he became strangely serious.

"At all?"

"No. I...I kinda feel like a huge slut."

Again, none of the chuckles I expected from Billy.

"Do you remember fucking him?" His eyes were trained on mine. I looked down into my plate.

"This morning, sure. But before that, nothing."

Billy sat up in his chair and very leaned towards me with a very somber look on his face.

"Dude," he announced, "it's Saturday."

He said it like he was telling me my father had died. My first reaction was to laugh as I usually did at Billy's poor attempts at seriousness. But before the laugh could rise to the top of my throat, a pulse of realization and anxiety stunned it in my throat.

"Saturday?" I responded calmly.

Billy's eyes went wide as he saw the understanding in mine.

"Saturday."

I paused, my mind frantically racing over our familiar timeline. Into Madrid on Friday, onto Ibiza on Monday, through to Rome for Worlds the following Sunday. It seemed way too early for us to be on our penultimate day in gay paradise.

"Wait," I asked, desperately trying to find some logic and reasoning to cling to, "what day did I give that guy CPR at the beach?"

"Wednesday," Billy replied quickly, as if he had already done this calculation himself.

"Monday we..."

"Went to the pool and then the beach."

"Tuesday..."

"Pool and beach."

"Wednesday..."

"Pool, beach, and-"

"I'm sensing a pattern here," I muttered as an aside.

"-pulled that dude out of the water," Billy continued.

"Thursday..."

This time Billy offered no swift reply. Instead he leaned even closer and whispered, "Dude, I thought today was motherfucking Thursday."

The comment hung eerily in the air as we both pondered it, Billy sure of something amiss and myself still in disbelief.

"How do you know?"

"What?"

"That it's Saturday."

"The paper. The internet caf‚. It's fucking Sa-ba-do."

"You're sure that's the word for Saturday?"

"You're supposed to be the smart one."

Fuck, I thought to myself. We need a "Jueves", not "Sabado". What the hell is going on?

As if answering my question, Billy said, "Drugs, dude."

"What?"

"Drugs. We were on some drugs."

I instinctively refused to believe it. Black-out drunk? Sure. Weed? Sometimes, but anytime so close to competition. Drugs that erase two whole days? No way.

"Like what?" I asked, for the first time in quite a while turning to Billy for his expertise with a serious question.

"Not sure. Something crazy, for sure."

"Did you-?"

"No way!" he said throwing his hands up in the air. "No fucking way. Musta been slipped to us."

"Jesus Christ."

We both sat back, Billy looking satisfied that I had come to the same conclusion as him.

It's hard now to look back and separate out all the different thoughts that swarmed over my mind. There was, of course, shock and disbelief, followed soon after by a lingering wonder and worry over what I might have done. I had just woken up to fuck a complete stranger and Billy had spent the night beneath a pile of men. While neither of these were firsts for us, times before we usually understood how we got in bed with the adonis or how the poor schmuck ended up with cum caked in his beard. And that was just one night. What about all day Thursday and Friday? Wednesday night to Saturday morning? Jesus, I thought, it was a miracle my cock was still attached to my body and my asshole was still fully closing. As the possible scenarios started to surface the blur of excitement hardened into anger. Who the hell did this?

Our thoughts were interrupted by a waiter. Like most of the waiters at the Hotel Molino, he was young and beautiful, his Spanish face brightened with tight, bright smile.

"Excuse me, sirs. Are you the persons staying in the room tirty-tree?"

Billy was still lost in his thoughts so I replied.

"Yes, yes."

"Ah! I have messages here for you."

He reached into a pocket of his black vest and produced two envelopes which I took while slipping a Euro into his pocket.

"Gracias, senor. Anything more for you and your friend?"

I was reading the names on the letters, one addressed to me and one to Billy.

"Umm, yes: milk."

He didn't seem to understand.

"Do you have any, umm...what's the word, umm...leche?"

Very quickly but very sincerely, he laughed-an uncontrollable little laugh no doubt not meant for guests of the hotel. A memory of high school Spanish suddenly flooded my mind; "leche" had a "very base and very figurative" meaning aside from "milk", our teacher had said with a wink.

The waiter composed himself and spoke. "Yes, sir. Mas leche para el rey!" As he finished the short sentence and began to turn away, however, the smile broke again across his face.

Billy, who had been in a seeming daze, finally chimed in, his brow suddenly furrowed.

"Dude, did he just call you the king?"

"How far do you think a taxi would take us for 300 Euros?"

Billy was calling from the bathroom while I sat on the bed. Two showers and forty-five minutes of speculation after realizing we'd just fast-forwarded past two days of our lives, we were still at a loss to recollect what had happened. But our attention was already drifting elsewhere for the moment. Mine was on the letter addressed to me, which I was rereading as Billy spoke.

"How far, dude?"

Billy appeared at the bathroom door, naked, his cheeks lathered in shaving gel. This certainly wasn't a new sight for me, but yet I always found myself pausing to admire.

His body was a tribute to the coaching of the U.S. national swim team. His long, lean legs; his broad, sculpted shoulders; his chiseled chest and perfect stomach: he was built for speed, flush with power. In Rome he was expected to lead our team, if not the whole field, in no fewer than five events. Chief among them were the two and four hundred IM, events he had owned for the past year; the rest of the world was just competing for second.

Most coaches would argue that, in the pool, his massive, heavy cock did him no favors. But staring at it as it swung between his smooth, tan thighs, I knew to what great uses it had been put.

Between the letter in my hands and the body before my eyes, I hardly heard a word he said.

"What?"

"I said how far do you think we can go on the 300 Euros?"

"Oh. Haha. Probably twice around the whole island, at least."

"Dude, that's crazy. Read me that thing again."

"Alright." I held out the letter again. "'Jake, Thank you again for your heroism on the beach the other day. My family and I can never repay you for saving my life, but we would like to try by having you come for lunch at our home this Saturday. I've enclosed the address and money for a taxi. Please feel free to bring your friend along. Best wishes, --Marcos S.'"

"Any idea where the address is?"

"Naw. Couldn't get the internet working."

"I bet it's a sick house. That dude seemed completely loaded."

"Yeah, no shit," I said, waving the six 50-Euro notes that had accompanied the letter.

"Seriously, bra, did you see what his wife was wearing at the beach? Gucci Gucci Gucci all over that bitch."

"I didn't notice."

"Too busy sucking that dude's face," Billy said and slapped me playfully on the face with a handful of shaving cream.

"Motherfucker."

"Haha," he said and darted back into the bathroom.

"Thanks a lot."

"Dude," he called over the rush of the tap, "don't be embarrassed, that guy was actually pretty hot. I actually popped a little wood when you were all over him."

"You're sick."

"What?" Billy said, defensive but laughing.

"The guy was about to die."

"Nah, you had him."

"So sure?"

"Jakey Monroe's a world class lifeguard in my book."

"Gee, thanks."

"My pleasure."

I had been nowhere near as confident as he was. The guy, Marcos, had been completely unresponsive when I pulled him away from the outcropping of rock he had hit his head upon. And it was more than a minute after that before he was on shore where I could start CPR. I definitely wasn't thinking about popping wood at the time, I was wondering what Spain's laws were like for negligent homicide.

"So," I began as I wiped my face on a pair of Billy's jeans, "you didn't tell me what your letter said."

"What?"

I assumed my best upper crust accent: "What news came hither in the correspondence addressed to Mr. Billy Tandry the Third?"

"You bitch."

I laughed. Billy was a blue-blood and he hated it. The only thing that agitated him more than hearing his full name was any talk of his family's insurance business-a business whose reins were sure to fall into Billy's hands once his swimming career ended.

"No seriously, what was it? Your dad again, I'm guessing."

Billy stepped out of the bathroom again, his face shaven and bright. He wore a pair of black and white striped speedos with red fringe, his fist sized package distending the stripes as they stretched around his cock and balls.

"Yeah, bra. Mo' money, mo' problems."

"Oh really?"

"Nah, he says I'm spending too much again-gonna max out the platinum card. Which is ridiculous. Everything is so fucking expensive over here. It's not my fucking fault."

"Sure it isn't," I said sarcastically.

"What?"

"Well, I haven't seen those before." I pointed to his speedo.

"What? This?"

"Yeah."

"What the fuck? I needed a new suit."

"You're a professional swimmer and you're saying you don't own a decent speedo?"

He laughed a bit at this. "Whatever, racing suits aren't that hot, and this shit was too good to pass up."

"How much?"

"80 Euros."

"Jesus."

"You shouldn't be such a dick about it," he said as he dug into his suitcase.

"Oh yeah, why not?"

He pulled out a fistful of fabric. "Cuz I got you one too."

I unfolded the wad of fabric he tossed my way and found tiny baby-blue speedo. Its fresh lycra had a wonderfully soft feel and the new metallic sheen that is eventually washed away in the laundry.

"It's got a cupped pouch for your giant Johnson and it's the right blue for, you know..."

"For what?" I asked, taking my pleased stare from the speedo to Billy's now bashful face.

"Your eyes."

"Aw, my wittle sweetie pie."

"Fuck off."

I laughed and then, with an outstretched arm and raised finger declared, "To the pool!"

It was Ibiza; it was July; it was 10 a.m. We were gay, horny, and on our way to the hillside pool at Hotel Molino. Our direction was hardly a choice-more a matter of gravitational pull.

The pool is something of an institution on the island. Though the pool itself is neither large nor opulent nor particularly popular, the many-leveled lounge decks that sprawl before and behind and above and below the pool swarm with bronzed and muscled bodies as long as the sun shines. People come for the commanding view of the Mediterranean, the cool sea breezes, and the sight of a hundred oiled and buff bodies wrapped in tiny pieces of nylon and spandex and lycra, colored as bright as a rainbow.

We crossed the street in front of our building, passed between two hedges of bright red bougainvillea, and entered the pool area at the topmost terrace. Scanning the crowds for empty chairs, we couldn't see two next to each other.

"Damn, this place keeps getting more and more packed," Billy lamented.

"Yeah, we may have to split up."

"That sucks but-oh-shit-oh-shit-oh-shit!" Billy interrupted himself.

"What?!"

"Two levels down, yellow speedo."

"Wait, where...?" I started scanning the crowd.

"Two levels down, yellow-see the guy in the white thong walking, he's right next-"

"Oh shit, I see it."

"Dude."

"Yeah."

It wasn't anything spectacular for the Hotel Molino pool, but it was worth taking in. The yellow speedo belonged to a hulking, massive muscle daddy, with a neatly trimmed chest and a close-cropped beard. The speedo in question looked to be moments away from bursting. The muscle daddy's huge cock was at full extension, bulging through the speedo. Its fat cocktip reached all the way to his hip. From even twenty feet away, the dick's girth was an arresting sight.

The muscle daddy made no attempts to hide it. In fact, as one, two, three guys passed in front of his chair-all shooting long, appreciative stares towards his crotch-he seemed to arch his back, flexing his abs and pushing his hard package skyward. We knew from previous days that it was only a matter of time.

To our surprise it ended up being a courageous Spanish twink of sorts, sporting his own boner through tight red square-cut swim trunks, who confidently stepped alongside the muscle daddy's chair and sat down. He sat right by the daddy's knees and, leaning forward, began caressing the inside of his hairy, tree trunk thighs. They both said nothing at first. The daddy merely looked down approvingly at the boy.

"Oh shit," Billy said as we tried to hide out blatant stares behind the trunk of a palm tree. Such discretion wasn't really necessary, since most eyes around the pool were pair by pair turning towards the show in progress.

Eventually the boy said a few words-nothing we had a chance of hearing. But whatever they were, they encouraged the daddy to take his big wide hands and begin groping his own package as the boy slid his delicate hand further and further up his thighs, his fingertips grazing the daddy's sack through his yellow speedo.

The boy was now throwing a barrage of puckered lips and suggestive smiles at the daddy. He, though we couldn't make out his facial expressions, brought a hand to his mouth, soaked two fingertips in his warm saliva, and presented them to the boy, who leaned forward further to take them into his mouth.

Minds around the pool deck shared one thought: forget the fucking fingers, take out that fat cock and feed it to the boy! Unfortunately even heaven has rules, and at the Hotel Molino pool no cock can see the light of day. Despite the wild, raw libidos firing away all around the pool deck, the rule was firm and observed. However, for imaginative minds, this was hardly a problem. And, lucky for us spectators, the twink knew how to improvise.

After taking the daddy's sweet saliva and sending back some of his own (which the daddy appreciatively took into his own mouth) the boy put his small hands to work on the massive package before him. As he kneaded and massaged the thick shaft I noticed the boy had a surprisingly firm set of shoulders, biceps, and triceps flexing and churning away as he worked. His body was slim, tight, and tan-but there was clearly a lot of power in his frame. He looked like the kind of bottom who could last all night and well into the morning.

The boy's confidence didn't seem to flag as nearly every set of eyes fixed upon the cock in his hands. In fact, he grew bolder. With a deft leap and slide of his body he mounted the daddy full on, his cute ass now resting directly atop that huge yellow package.

"Dude, fucking awesome," Billy whispered.

"No shit."

"I'm all bone here."

I looked and saw Billy try his best to surreptitiously show me the fat log in his striped speedo.

"Jesus!"

"Shh! I can't help it. That shit is insane down there."

A quick look about the pool showed Billy wasn't alone. Along the rows of bodies sprawled along the lounge chairs were speedo after speedo swelling with growing cocks. Some simply sat still as if ignoring the rods in their crotches would make them less conspicuous; others seemed to think that no good hard-on should be left untended and were massaging their dicks through their tight swim briefs.

Still, Billy seemed bashful.

"Here," I said, stepping forward and resting my arms on a railing before us. "Come stand behind me."

"What?"

I took him by the forearm and pulled his front up against my backside.

"Oh shit, dude," he moaned as his hard, speedo-bound cock pressed up against my firm ass cheeks.

"Just an old-fashioned game of hide-the-sausage, really," I said with a smile.

I flexed my ass cheeks just to tease his cock a bit.

"Oh, motherfucker," he groaned quietly, his hot breath in my ear.

I laughed. "You all right?"

It seemed I had sent him into a trance. "Fucking amazing, Jake. You're fucking amazing."

"Haha. OK, OK. Take it easy on me, though," I said and leaned my head back alongside his, my hair brushing his cheek.

"OK, baby," he said with a sincerity that left me puzzled. Billy and I had fooled around endless times. I couldn't remember too many moans of "baby." But I didn't have much time to reflect on it; the show was moving on.

The muscle daddy put his hands behind his head, locking his fingers together amidst his short dark hair, and let the boy go to work. And go to work he did. The boy began rocking, then circling, then positively gyrating his hips, all the while grinding his smooth thighs and perky butt against the daddy's throbbing rod. The daddy's head tilted farther and father back as the boy's work intensified.

Within the tight red trunks, the boy's own cock was clearly enjoying the ride. It grew and grew, its shiny tip slipping above his waistband for one glorious second-only to be met by a collective, awestruck gasp from the crowd. The boy then promptly returned it to its tight confines, whereupon the gasp became a disappointed sigh.

Billy neither gasped nor sighed along with the rest of us. His nose was buried the back of my hair; his arms were wrapped around the front of my chest; and his hips were slightly, almost imperceptibly, grinding his fat shaft along my ass cheek.

"You watching this?"

"So hot, dude. So. Fucking. Hot."

I looked back and wasn't convinced he was checking out anything more than his view of my shoulders, arms and back. Part of me wondered if the drugs might not have worn off him just yet; but that thought was interrupted by another smart move by the showoff twink.

Looking for ways to grind harder into the shaft below him, the boy threw his arms down onto the daddy's massive hairy pecs for support. From there he began dipping his ass deeper, dragging it up and down and side-to-side along the daddy's speedo-bound crotch. However, the daddy's chest soon proved too sweet a distraction, and the boy's grinding hips slowed as he began teasing the daddy's nipples. He tugged and pinched, and the daddy tilted his head back forward. He reached up his massive arms and rubbed the boy's forearms approvingly as the boy continued to twist and pull.

Suddenly a moan rang out from the terrace directly below us. A brunette stud in a navy speedo spotted with white stars, sitting just above the daddy and the twink, had clearly had his fill of the free entertainment. As dozens of eyes darted to the sound of his telltale cry, they came upon the sight of a growing wetness across the front of the brunette's speedo. Knowing smiles broke across the crowd as friends pointed out the explosion to other friends. The brunette, for his part, was only so bashful. He slipped a hand down into his speedo, jerked his shaft a few times beneath the nylon, and withdrew his cum-covered hand for all to see. He smeared his cum across his chest and let us all watch as it shone pearly white under the bright sun.

"Damn, did you see that?" I asked Billy.

"Dude."

"This guy in the white, right there."

"Dude."

"What?!"

"Dude!"

"It's the guy right there. What the fuck is your-?"

Before I could turn my head around to see why Billy seemed to momentarily have Tourette's, I felt his hips make two hard thrusts against my ass. Soon after came the feel of a shudder through Billy's whole body and the feel of hot jizz seeping across the fabric of our speedos and onto my ass cheek.

Billy, for his part, had little to say. He simply drooped his head down onto my back like a tired dog.

"Jesus, Billy."

"Sorry, man," he muttered. "Too fucking hot."

"I guess so."

His arms, still wrapped around my chest, tightened. Then he dropped one hand down to my crotch and began messaging my own half-hard cock through my baby blue speedo.

"Buddy, what the-"

"It's OK, J. I got you."

And with that he went to town, gripping around as much of my shaft as he could wrestle from the nylon, pinching at my cocktip, cupping and gently squeezing my balls. In moments my dick was all hard, and Billy was licking the back of my ear.

Billy's groping and licking diverted the attention of about a dozen people away from the twink-and-muscle-daddy show. I blushed but Billy himself didn't seem to notice, his brow buried in my sandy-blonde hair. I tried to look to the ground to avoid the stares, but eventually decided to look head on and take in the last of the show.

The twink was arching his back now, his sleek abs bulging as he rocked atop the muscle daddy's cock. The daddy didn't have much left in him, it was clear. He laid his hands on the boy's smooth sides but did nothing with them; he seemed to be almost powerless and under the spell of the twink's hips.

Aside from the grunt, we all knew when the daddy came because his crotch pulsed and briefly sprang the boy's whole body skyward. For a moment the boy paused, watching the agony of ecstasy on the daddy's face as he unloaded into his yellow speedo. But soon another sly smile flickered on his face and he resumed rocking across that powerful groin and its fat cock. At this the daddy trembled and tightened his grip on the twink's sides, trying to stop the gyrations atop his tender shaft. The boy allowed no such respite for him, and smiled as he struggled to wiggle within the daddy's powerful grip.

The crowd at this point was on the verge of cheering and laughing out loud in appreciation of the puckish twink. More importantly, we all wondered how he would be getting his.

We did not have to wonder long. In yet another bold move from that small frame, the boy, still straddling the daddy, moved his way up and positioned himself over the daddy's hairy chest. From here he briefly paused, looked down with a smile at the exhausted stud below him, and leaned his red bulge into the daddy's face.

Technically, no pool rules had been broken at this point. But yet gasps arose as we watched the most flagrant show of the week. Not reproving gasps, mind you, but rather gasps of awe, admiration, and anticipation.

As Billy's cum cooled from hot to warm against the side of my ass and his hand continued stroking my rod, I watched the daddy munch on the twink's hard rod though its nylon encasement. His jawbones churned beneath his dark beard. The twink, courageous to the end, didn't hesitate to grab his daddy by the head and press his face atop his own cock. The daddy's body language made it clear enough that he wasn't used to such rough treatment from such delicate creatures, but for the crowd this reordering of the gay universe only made things more interesting. And, despite whatever reservations he may have had, the daddy munched away.

I got the sense that the boy had the will power to enjoy an hour of attention from the daddy's mouth, but he also seemed intent on giving us all a good show, complete with a grand finale. He came up with quite a good surprise. Backing his grinding hips off the daddy's face for a moment, he grabbed his shaft through his red trunks and slipped a finger inside his waistband. Then he let his crotch crash back into the daddy's tongue and stubble. Unsure of what was going on, the crowd hunched up in their chairs to peer more intently at the tight space between the daddy's face and the boy's groin.

We didn't actually see the mechanics of his surprise, but we saw the result. When the time came to cum, he lifted his waistband just enough to allow his hot load to spray up out of his tight red square-cut and onto the brow of the daddy. The first we saw of this scheme was when the boy, smiling, leaned back again and revealed three large gobs of cum oozing down the daddy's face.

The daddy's stern demeanor finally cracked at this elaborate trick and he laughed. The boy, smiling in reply, leaned down and gently began kissing and licking his cum from the daddy's face. Before the boy could swallow much or any of it, the daddy pulled him down by the neck for kissful and after kissful of cum.

As the daddy and the twink's show descended into everyday kisses and cuddling on their lounge chair, the crowd's attention wandered up to me. I didn't notice it at first. But soon it was apparent that there I was, displayed like meat along the topmost balcony of the pool's terraces, my fat cock throbbing inside my tiny speedo as Billy stroked it and kissed my ear. It was only fair, I guess, that the spectator became the show.

I tried my best not to look at the prying eyes, and luckily most were obscured my Aviators or Dolce & Gabbana lenses the size of saucers. However, the few eyes I did see seemed to be smiling with a very knowing grin, which left me unsettled and my adrenalin thumping. After a few moments I decided it was best to close my eyes and get to the finale.

Once I closed my eyes the crowd seemed to have dispersed and I was left with the feel Billy's body wrapped about mine. To my surprise I found the feel of his wandering tongue, his hot breath, his slow-churning hand, and the heat of his chest on my back all exhilarating. There was a tenderness coming from his every movement that I wasn't familiar with, and I wasn't sure right away if it was because it was new or because I had never noticed it before. Before that question could be answered my surrender to Billy's warm body was complete and a blotch of cum was spreading across the front of my baby blue speedo. As I came Billy tightened the grip of his one arm around my chest, positively smashing our muscled frames together. Yet despite the pressure, it was an incredibly soft and tender embrace, and my cock seemed to unload an extra-large load in response.

There was a collective sigh across the terraces as the impromptu shows came to an end. On other unseen levels other spectators of the twink and daddy had unloaded their own shafts to the delight of their neighbors. It was about two dozen out of a hundred people having a group wank with their speedos on: quite a sight, and something of a fantasy come true for professional wearers of speedos such as myself and Billy.

The crowd was gorgeous and the cocks were huge, so I can't say my show was better than any other. But I did notice that my coming was the only explosion that was accompanied by outright cheers from a smattering of the crowd. I wouldn't have noticed the cheers, actually, had one of my admirers from below not shouted something curious:

"Viva el rey!"

Long live the king.

"Well, I'd say the speedos have been properly christened."

Billy and I were huddled under a showerhead. After the jerking bonanza a crush of exhausted men with cum-spattered bodies and sweaty swimming briefs had descended on the two outdoor showers by the pool. Billy and I had jumped together into the shower stall separated from the rest of the pool deck by a trellis overgrown with flowering vines. A tapestry of sunlight and shadows speckled our wet bodies.

"Yeah, dude. These fuckers will never be so soft again," Billy lamented as he turned his black and white striped speedo inside out and held the cum-soaked fabric under the falling water.

Our still swollen, weary cocks hung low and heavy under the hot water. As we jostled about his cocktip occasionally tapped my own or the front of my smooth thigh.

"Worth it, though."

"Definitely," Billy said, looking up from his speedo into my eyes.

"We've done a lot of shit, but I don't think we've ever done that before."

"Nah, I think you're right. It was fucking hot. Have to do it again sometime."

I wrapped my arm around his wet waist and pulled him close to me for a quick kiss.

"Anytime."

Suddenly we heard the padding of wet feet and, in a blur, a figure appeared next to us in the shower.

"Fuck!" Billy jumped.

"Just a sec, man. We're almost done," I said as I looked the figure in the eye.

But something in those eyes told me I was missing the point. The figure was another dark Spaniard. Most immediately I noticed his smooth, hard chest and the bulge hanging from his dark purple speedo. The expression on his face, however, eventually held all my attention. A frantic, exasperated look spread wildly across his dark eyebrows, hazel eyes, and high and delicate cheekbones.

"Yous are so stupid! Stupid boys!" he began, quickly and severely.

Billy and I stared at each other in disbelief.

"Dude, we'll be out in a second."

"Yeah, just hold on," I said as I put a hand to his hard pecs and began gently pushing him away.

His eyes grew wide, his expression livid.

"What!? What ees wrong wit chu boys?"

"What?"

"Where have yous been?"

"What do you mean?"

"Uh! Stupido stupido stupido!" He seemed to be nearly at his wits' end, and as he approached it his accented lisp and queeny dramatics accelerated.

"Calm down, dude," Billy said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"No!" He swatted the hand away. "No! No! El Senor Vasquez cannot find yous almost one whole day. So now he come to me, say I am to fix, or trouble. Trouble!"

"What?"

"Why you keep asking 'What?' when yous know!?"

Again Billy and I traded incredulous stares. There was only one word we could think to say, and we said it together:

"What?"

"Dios mio. Que stupido!"

He looked at us both intently and then, finally believing our disbelief, slowed down his agitated words.

"Me: Rodrigo. Si?" He enunciated slowly, as if talking to a child. We weren't sure whether to be offended or not.

"Umm, si. Hi, Rodrigo."

"Yous: Beely and Jahk. Si?"

"Sort of," I replied. "Billy and Jake," I pronounced correctly, to his irritation.

"We make deal with Senor Vasquez. Together. Si?"

"Umm, who is Senor Vasquez?"

"Que?! Quien es-Dios mio!" He was absolutely frantic again.

"Oy. Andale andale!" the voice of the next in line to use the shower yelled out.

"Ay!" The voice now sent our intruder into an outright panic. "Tengo que ir, tengo que ir-yous go to la playa?"

"The beach?" I asked. "Yeah, this afternoon."

He seemed relieved. "OK, OK. Fine, fine. We talk then. Come soon."

"OK," we agreed, happy to finally be able to say something that would calm him down.

He seemed to pause to think. He looked over us and noticed we were naked for the first time.

"Ay, my preety leetle boys. Be careful till then, OK?"

"OK."

"And remember: Planet boys will be watching at you. Be good to them. They want fuck, you do it. OK?"

Again Billy and I stared at each other. Asking questions at this point seemed a waste, but I couldn't let that go by without comment.

"Why?"

Rodrigo fell gravely quiet.

"Yous know, Senor Vasquez big plan. And you," he said, sticking a finger into my pec, "only good for him if you play along."

"What?"

"Is big business that-"

"Andale!" the man in line called again.

"I tell you later."

And with a quick patter of wet feet slapping against the pool deck, Rodrigo disappeared. Billy and I stood stupefied. The shower stall, despite the rush of the water, suddenly seemed silent now that the wild eyes and alarming words of the intruding Rodrigo were gone.

"Dude, what the fuck was that?!" Billy asked, running a hand through his hair in full confusion and amazement.

"No idea."

"I mean, what the fuck?"

"Yeah."

"Who was that dude?"

"Billy, what the hell did we do the past two days?"

Eventually we found two deck chairs side-by-side on one of the lower terraces. Well, we didn't find it so much as a cute British stud offered us his chair next to another empty one, saying "Anything for you."

We set down out towels, lubed one another's tight bodies in sunscreen (a sight that attracted nearly as much attention as Billy's jerking me), slipped on our sunglasses, and stretched out under the hot Mediterranean sun. The breeze was coming in cool from the sea, and we tried to relax as best we could, but soon enough our minds were racing.

"So Senor Vasquez..." I began, not really knowing what to say.

"Yeah, dude. What...the...fuck?"

"Do you think he thinks we're somebody else?"

"Maybe."

"I mean, I have no idea what he means."

"Yeah."

"Or, hell, maybe it was all nonsense and he was just trying to sneak a peak at our dicks in there."

"I dunno. I think he really knew us, though. I mean, I think we're almost the only two blondes around here."

He had a point there. Aside from a few muscle-bound Germans our complexions made us stand out amongst the dark Spanish hoards. Tan though we were from hours of training in and around pools, it was a different sort of darkness.

"Shit." It was all I could think to say.

"Yeah, dude. I think we did some batshit crazy stuff those two days."

"So what now, then?"

"I dunno. I guess we go to the beach this afternoon and see if that crazy bastard is there. Maybe he'll tell us more."

"Maybe," I said hesitantly, though I understood that Billy was basically right. There wasn't much else we could do. The helplessness of the situation began to rise in my consciousness, and it brought a sort of discomfort and nausea over me. Two days of unaccounted, random fucking was enough to make my stomach sink in and of itself. But now Senor Vasquez? And "you're only good if you play along"? And the wild eyes as he said it all? Dread was rising within me. But while the uncertainty was what terrified me, it was also what comforted me. For delusions and distractions were easy to come by. It was easy to think: no, nothing bad had happened, just too much drinking and a random hookup or two. Nothing worse than a weekend out at home, and look around at the men I there are to hook up with. Is this place anything but paradise?

"Dude, it's flyer time," Billy said as he sat up in his chair and tapped my shoulder.

"What? Where?" I said, propping myself up on my elbows and turning my head.

Billy didn't need to answer me, part of the job of the flyer boys is to be as conspicuous as possible. I saw them the moment I turned my head.

Ibiza, most would agree, is kept alive by the artificial respirator of tourism. For the most part that tourism operates there as its does throughout the rest of the world's beaches: shimmering towers of luxury hotel complexes, the cracking facades of drab and dreary budget hotels, overpriced and inauthentic restaurants, bodegas lined with towers of sunscreen and racks of beach towels, jet ski rentals, 20-Euro T-shirts, and so on. But Ibiza does have one rather unique claim to fame: its clubs. Megaclubs, really. Foam parties, laser shows, glitter-encrusted dancers hanging from ceilings, DJs that you've actually heard of before-thousands upon thousands of Euros of entertainment staged nightly for the enjoyment of drunk and high revelers willing to part with a 60-Euro cover charge. It is, after all, a business-and a thriving one at that.

And like all businesses, the clubs invest in smart marketing strategies. Sure, billboards and posters are part of that, but the real genius of their advertising is the flyer boys sent out from the gay clubs.

The day of a huge party one can always expect to see them, tan and buffed with immaculately smooth skin, prancing in a pack around Ibiza's popular pools and beaches. In their wake one finds gawking stares and hands full of small glossy cards advertising the evening's entertainment. Now, granted, the sight of a pack of muscled boys giddily tromping about the beach in Ibiza is no unusual sight, but these boys are the buffest of the buff, with meticulously gelled hair and bulging abs-they always manage to look as if they've come directly from the gym. And, in case one still can't point them out, there's always the dead giveaway of their matching speedos, usually bearing the name of their respective clubs stamped across their asses.

"I can't see. Which one are they from?" Billy asked as he craned his neck to look to the terrace above where they were parading in.

"Sacrilege, I think," I said after catching the sight of an ornate gothic "S" on the side of a pink speedo filled with a massive bubble butt.

"Nice."

Needless to say, the train of five muscled boys in pink speedos and pink-rimmed sunglasses immediately captured the attention of everyone around the pool. But just to make sure, the last boy in the line-fittingly the one with the biggest and best ass-carried a set of speakers over his shoulder that blared trance music across the pool deck.

Smiles broke across the crowd as the parade of abs and pecs, of biceps and bulges, danced and snaked its way through the crowd. They boys took care to do the job right, like true showmen. They didn't merely drop their flyers-no, no, that would be far too impersonal. They backed their gyrating asses up into crotches or wrapped their hands about chests while jiggling their bulges against bystanders' backsides. Then, after they'd raised their victim's heart rate substantially, they'd hand over the flyer with a smile and a sexy glance directly into a pair of awestruck eyes.

Today one of the boys was particularly eager. With close-cropped hair and a diamond stud in one ear, he confidently leaped atop lounge chairs-straddling people with his muscled torso-and then presented the flyer in his mouth, which more than a few startled loungers happily received with their own mouths. Every chair he dismounted appeared to have a fresh rising cock upon it.

The mood was festive, and the crowd was soon dancing along to the music. When the boys reached a more or less central area amongst the many terraces, the back boy put his speakers down and the crew began a performance of sorts.

Every muscle on their taut bodies flexed to full definition as they dipped and gyrated in a mass of hard flesh. There was no real routine they were following; they just danced like the go-go boys they were, often grinding their tight bodies together-ass into crotch, stomach along side, ass against ass.

A circle of spectators wanting the closest look possible was crowding around them when a whoop went up from the uppermost level of the terrace.

"Ay ay!"

"Uh oh!"

"Ven! Ven ven ven!"

When the shouts died down my ears were disoriented by a blare of music. The Sacrilege boys were playing some awful music, I thought at first. But then I realized what was happening.

Descending now from the top terrace was a second parade of flesh. They supplied their own music as well, thus creating the utter cacophony of techno beats.

"Sweet," Billy murmured as he spotted them.

I look briefly his direction and saw his hand rubbing his cock through his black and white striped speedo. Not a bad idea, I thought. But I had a better one. To best see the carnival of flesh beginning on the terraces above me, I flipped over on my chair, pushing my growing dick up against the tight stretch of the lounge chair. As I began slightly pumping my package into the chair, Billy caught on.

"Good idea, bra."

Soon we were both humping away at our chairs, watching the festival of muscle unfold.

The second group of boys was no less beautiful and sculpted that the first. And what's more, there were seven of them, all sporting full bulges in low-cut white speedos. They seemed to immediately sight their pink-speedo'd competition on the terrace below them. As they did a rush of playful tension rose up in the crowd.

"Where are these dudes from?" Billy asked, now unabashedly humping his chair.

I scanned the white speedos until one turned around.

"Planet 10."

After a brief pause we both said at once:

"Hey!"

"Wait," Billy went on. "Is that was that he meant in the shower?"

"Planet boys."

"Yeah."

"I don't know."

We both seemed to think about it for a moment.

"What else, right?" Billy surmised.

"Yeah," I said and added with a laugh, "Too bad. I guess we'll have to fuck them."

"We've got a hard life, J."

"Real hard life."

By now the Planet 10 boys had walked straight up to the Sacrilege boys and set off a chorus of "Oooh's" and "Uh oh's". Both sides playfully wore stern expressions on their face, like players huffing in each other's faces before a big game. They stood for a few moments, the two disparate sets of speakers clashing the air, before a Planet boy stepped forward.

With a confident stride he approached the Sacrilege speakers and turned them off. He snapped up chin up in the air haughtily and he returned to his spot among the Planet boys.

Another still, tense moment-those two rows of muscled torsos facing off-and then the leader of the Sacrilege boys removed his sunglasses, dramatically cast them aside, and stepped up to the nearest Planet boy. The leader of the Sacrilege crowd, a muscled god with an intricate tattoo sleeve descending his right arm from shoulder to elbow, then slowly and deliberately wrapped his hand around the package of the Planet boy.

The Planet boy jumped almost imperceptibly, and smiled even more subtly, before tightening his steady posture and grave glare. He looked ahead, refusing to meet eyes with his groper. In that small, passing smile I realized the fun and tease behind this game, and the great showmanship both sides were capable off. After all, this was their job-they were good at it.

I envied the tattooed hunk as his big hand methodically churned over the Planet's boy's big white nylon bulge. After working it over for a minute or so, the Sacrilege stud looked up from the bulge to the boy's face and then out at the crowd, which was waiting on tenterhooks for what would happen next. With a dramatic flourish, the tattooed stud shook his head in disapproval. Planet boys, he seemed to indicate, didn't pass his package test. The crowd roared with laughter; some, however, began administering their own package tests to themselves as they watched the hot proceedings before them.

Now the tattooed stud was apparently a fair person, and so before passing judgment on all the Planet boys as a whole, he moved through their ranks one-by-one, cupping every fat bulge. The Planet boys all followed along, staring ahead stone-faced with their hands behind their backs as the stud's thick hand massaged their meat. Their bodies they kept steady, but two of the Planet boys couldn't restrain their dicks, and while inspecting them the tattooed hunk was left with fat rods in his palm. Still, the heartless hunk shook his head disapprovingly at their enormous shafts. Business is business, I guess.

The two Planet boys that popped wood were perhaps the most enticing of their group. One, with very close-cropped hair and a tiger tattooed across his left pec, had-despite his tough and rigid body-a tender look about his face. Though he was slender and lithe, he was no twink as his frame was cased in tight muscles. He looked to be scrappy, a fighter. He could barely suppress his cute, wide smiles as the Sacrilege stud went to work on him and his friends.

The other, with short spiked hair and thick bulging muscles, carried his high cheekbones in an expression of severe beauty that could be so disconcerting to passersby in a club. He looked like his life revolved around the club and gym, and through his stern expression one could see that his brain might not consist of more than a few seldom used cranks and gears. A gay ditz, I wondered? He, too, couldn't control his smiles or his cock, so from my lounge chair I pardoned the perceived stupidity in his face on account of his seeming good nature.

"Dude, my dick is going to be fucking raw."

I looked over to see Billy still humping away, not a care in the world other than his stiff cock. I couldn't blame him.

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a spasm of movement and turned just in time to see the guy on the chair next to me-a hard young stud with twin nipple rings-bust his load into the front of his black swim briefs. He seemed to be alone, for he had nowhere to turn with his embarrassed face once the spasms of his ejaculation subsided. Almost instinctively, I reached out a hand and rubbed along his smooth thigh. His eyes darted to mine and I smiled. A little less bashful now, he smiled back.

The Sacrilege versus Planet 10 match had by then moved to its next stage: the lap-dance contest. Or so I labeled it.

I looked up to see a pink speedo-with "Sacrilege" scrawled in ornate calligraphy across its backside-circling and swirling above the crotch of a wide-eyed pool-goer. Bit by bit the dips and gyrations of the full, flexing ass come closer and closer to landing atop the lucky man's metallic grey bulge. Finally, the descent was complete. The Sacrilege boy arched his back and drove his ass deep onto the man's bulge. The man nearly lost his balance and fell out of his chair, at which point the boy took the man's hands and guided them up onto his muscled torso, which the man happily grabbed onto for support. The man's face eventually buried itself in the smooth, dark skin of the boy's firm back. The boy looked back and smiled, and then began vigorously thumping his huge tight ass cheeks into the man's crotch. Just when the man seemed to be on the verge of losing all control, the boy leapt up to stand, turn, and present a flyer to the grateful man.

However, no sooner had the man reached for the flyer than a Planet boy swooped in and, taking the man's head in his hands, guided the man's mouth directly onto the white bulge of his speedo. The crowd cheered at this clever move and the Planet boy smiled in gratitude. His hands pressed the man's head firm into his crotch as he flexed his firm ass cheeks and pushed his massive bulge into the man's face. As the man's mouth finally adjusted to the chaos and wrapped itself about the boy's half-hard rod the Planet stud threw his head back in delight. His abs tightened and his hands pressed harder on the man's head. After a minute he pulled the man's head back. His shaft was now full-grown and nearly popping from his white speedo. He took control of the man's head again and this time directed the eager mouth to the bottom of his package, where the man happily began massaging the hunk's balls with his strong lips and wet tongue. The crowd let out shout after shout of encouragement as all took in the fine view of the stud's huge, speedo-bound rod pulsing above the man's churning lips. To finish his sales pitch the boy pulled the man's head off his package and leaned in for a long, wet kiss-during which he deftly slipped his flyer into the man's hand.

The Planet 10 and Sacrilege boys had all gathered to watch this contest and, seeing the outcome, immediately dispersed to perform similar sales pitches across the terraces. As the crowd realized this dozens of anxious, speedo-clad boys jumped back into their lounge chairs and waited for the free lap-dances to arrive.

Billy and I were far from the epicenter of the action so we held out little hope for a lap-dance in the near future. We stayed face-down on our loungers, still rocking our swollen shafts back and forth.

"That would be a crazy job," I mused.

"No shit," Billy readily agreed.

"And here's the place to do it."

"What?"

"Ibiza. Definitely the place to have their job."

"Why?"

"Can you think of one person around this pool that you wouldn't mind giving a lap-dance?"

"Haha. Yeah, I gotcha."

I wasn't far from the truth. Sure, every crowd has its less-than-desirables. But there I was at twenty-two, in the best shape of my life and perhaps as picky as I ever was about men, and I couldn't find two bodies side-by-side that I wouldn't gladly fuck.

"Seriously, I think I'd even pay to give some of these dudes lap-dances, let alone get one from them."

"Yeah. Yeah, dude."

"Honestly."

"But don't sell yourself short, J. I'd probably pay more for your lap-dance than one from those dudes."

"Oh really?" It wasn't that I didn't believe the truth of it. It was just too sappy for Billy to say.

"The truth, I swear."

"You're being awfully nice today, Billy."

"Whatever, man," he seemed a bit irritated by the question.

"Must be the drugs."

He laughed a bit awkwardly. "Yeah, must be."

"In fact," I continued, eager to keep teasing Billy, "I think-"

A pair of warm hands on my hips froze my lips. I looked over towards Billy's chair, expecting to find it empty and him climbing on top of me, but instead saw another pair of hands spreading along the smooth, tan skin of Billy's back. He appeared just as shocked as me.

"Ay, que guapos estos chicos," the voice belonging to the hands above me said coyly-though not to me. The voice seemed to be chatting with its compatriot atop Billy. That voice murmured in apparent agreement.

The hands were big and strong but moved tenderly, stroking my sides all the way up to my armpits before stroking down the length of my firm back.

I turned my head a noticed a familiar spike of hair and tell-tale white speedo straddling Billy's ass. It was the big-muscled Planet boy who had popped wood during his public groping. I twisted my head even more to see whose speedo-covered ass was crouching atop the backs of my own smooth thighs. Like a prayer answered, I peered up to catch a glimpse of a familiar head of close-cropped hair and a tiger tattoo stalking across a firm pec.

"Shh, shh!" The Planet stud atop me calmly commanded as he turned my head back down to the lounger.

"Ingles?" he asked as his hands began massaging my shoulders.

"Umm, si. Si, ingles. Or, no, umm...Americano."

"Ah," he cooed seductively. "Nice sexy American boy. Big muscles. Good for me, yes?" He was laughing a bit to himself.

"Umm...si?"

He laughed again. "Si. You are super sexy, yes? I think I stay here for all day. Let my friends do rest of my work."

I politely laughed. All my attention had flowed to my shoulders, which he was kneading in his tight grip. I let my body go limp beneath his strong touch. He seemed to notice as I yielded my body to him.

"Yes, yes. Is good. I take care."

He slid his body up. Now his bulge was resting atop my ass crack, his tight ass on the backs of my thighs. His own smooth thighs and legs rested warm and firm outside my own.

"OK, OK. Nice boy."

He worked every muscle of my back, shoulders, and arms. He stopped his wandering, probing hands only to lay the occasional kiss on my smooth skin. His hands moved slow but sure, confident in their power over me.

I felt his hot breath against my neck, followed by his wet lips and tongue. He sucked and lightly nibbled at my skin, before whispering in my ear.

"Where you go tonight, American boy? You come with me?"

I couldn't seem to locate my voice. I murmured something like an assent.

"We go someplace nice I know, have a fun time."

I began rocking my hips again, my boner throbbing in my baby blue speedo. My flexing ass cheeks slowly squeezed against the half-hard rod in his tiny white speedo.

"Yes. Nice ass, boy. Nice ass."

He leaned forward, lodging his shaft along the length of my ass crack. He put his powerful arms out, straddling my shoulders, and I felt the heat of his muscled chest as it lowered itself closer to my back. Between the force of my clenching ass cheeks, his cock was fully hard in moments.

"Ay, ay!" he said in hushed exclamation. It sounded quite a bit more sincere than his previous seductions. "Culo perfecto. Nice ass!"

He began rocking atop my ass slowly, but lust clearly overtook him and soon he was forcefully grinding his thick meat into my backside. What I would have given to have our speedos magically disintegrate, then and there.

I looked over to see Billy receiving a similar treatment from the ditzy muscle man. His tongue was slurping along Billy's smooth and tan lower back while his strong hand massaged the inside of Billy's thigh. Billy, for his part, was as overcome as I was, his eyes closed and mouth open in ecstasy.

My tiger-tattooed hunk brought my attention back to my own body as he began slamming his crotch into my ass, as if trying to burst through the speedos that restrained us and bury his shaft deep in my hole.

"Maybe I cum on this American ass right now?" he suggested aggressively.

I moaned in reply and flexed my cheeks around his latest thrust.

"Cum all over. Eh, boy?"

Finally I put together a strong of coherent words.

"Will there be lots of coming at your party tonight?"

I instantly regretted my words, for his thrusting hips quickly slackened their pace. I realized he had been totally lost in his humping, and had thought our current relations were for pleasure rather than business. Stupidly, I reminded him otherwise.

"Ah. Yes, yes, boy," he said, making a few more slow, deep thrusts along my crack. "Here, you take this."

He stood up on his knees to extract a flyer from the backside of his tiny speedo. As he did so I turned around to face him-my hard, speedo-bound cock now throbbing just below his. However, when he turned his attention back my direction that wasn't the first thing he noticed.

He looked over my face and his eyes grew wide.

"Ay, ay!" he said with alarm as he reached over to slap his friend atop Billy.

The muscled ditz reluctantly took his tongue from the back of Billy's thigh to look at his friend.

"Los Americanos!" he said in hushed excitement.

The muscle hunk looked puzzled as he studied my face and then leaned down to look at Billy's, which was still a vision of stupefied ecstasy.

"Si?" he asked, unsure.

"Si, si!" the stud atop me replied. He now became aware of the fact that I was watching him closely, and tried to convey the rest of his frenzied thoughts in a series of jerking nods, winks, and gestures. The muscled ditz looked stupidly on, understanding perhaps nothing of what was being communicated.

Finally the tiger-tattooed stud atop me turned his eyes back to me, and in measured words said, "This is your friend, yes?"

"Yes." I said, trying to hide my suspicion.

"Good, yes?"

"Umm...yes."

"Maybe we," he paused, gestured to Billy and his friend, and seemed to choose his next words carefully. "Maybe we go together for time-time alone." His voice was not as seductive as it was anxious, worrying over my reply.

"Umm, yeah. Well," I said, trying not to look at the fat cock in the tiny speedo before my eyes. I tried to discern just what the stud atop me was hiding.

Before I could reply, Billy did.

"OK," he said matter-of-factly, shaking off his lustful stupor and asking straightforwardly as he sat up: "Where to?"

"Dammit, Billy!" I said in a hush as I grabbed his arm.

We were walking close behind the tantalizing asses of our recent acquaintances. My tiger-tattooed boy had a narrow frame from which his bubble butt sprang like a thick orb, straining his tiny white speedo. The hunky ditz was allover big and muscled, and yet his ass still swelled so large and full that it commanded our attention over the sight of his bulging shoulders and enormous biceps.

"What, dude?" Billy whispered back.

I pointed in frustration to the "Planet 10" logos bending along the curves of the asses before us.

"So, I thought we were supposed to fuck those guys?" Billy reasoned.

"So now we're following rules set by crazy motherfuckers who jump in the shower with us?"

"I dunno."

"Well, I want to know what the fuck is going on here. These dudes did not want to fuck us until they saw our faces."

"What?" Billy didn't quite get it.

"Our faces." I traced my face with a fingertip to be clear and to remind Billy that, as far as I was concerned, he was a moron.

"Yeah. A lot of these dudes like the American look, I think."

"No, you idiot."

I was at my wits' end. The tiger-tattooed stud looked back with a cautious smile towards the noises coming from us. All around the pool deck jealous eyes shot daggers at us as we followed behind the sculpted bodies of the two Planet boys.

"They want to fuck us because they know who we are," I insisted.

"Dude, no shit."

"What?" Billy's sudden confidence made no sense.

"There are pictures of us diving and swimming in speedos all over the internet. For some of these dudes it's like seeing a celebrity."

That logic stunned me for a bit. It had a lot of truth to it, but I was certain he was wrong.

I didn't have time to argue another point. The Planet boys weren't taking us far at all. I watched as the two tiny speedos disappeared into the shadows of a hotel room that opened right onto the pool deck.

Before going in Billy hesitated a brief second and turned to me.

"This is gonna be sweet."

Two steps into the room, before my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I heard the sliding door slam and the curtains swish shut. A moment later, I felt a warm body flush against my front-hard nipples against my chest, a tight stomach tensing against mine, a thick bulge grazing my baby blue speedo.

The tiger-tattooed stud's lips followed soon after, quickly wrapping about my bottom lip and biting hard.

"Hot fuck American boy," he muttered between releasing my lip and biting it again. His hands flew around my body and slapped against my hard back, immediately beginning to massage my tight muscles.

Here was wild passion, instantly entangling my body in its grips. My worry suddenly disappeared, as if he had drawn it out of me with his probing tongue. This didn't appear to be sex with an ulterior motive, this felt like a raw, hard fucking was about to happen. A wave of fresh energy and inhibition washed over me. I had two inches on the stud heightwise and could match him muscle for muscle elsewhere. It was time for me to stir some lust of my own.

I gripped his firm sides in my big hands and pushed his body back across the dark room until his back slammed against a wall. The impact broke up our kiss and he tilted his head back against the wall at the thrill. I threw my warm lips upon his neck and began slurping, sucking, and nibbling along his tender, smooth skin. I turned a few nibbles into hard bites, not releasing him until he moaned as loud as I wanted. His hands, once firmly around my back, were now barely managing to hold onto my flexing body. I pressed my whole frame hard up against him, squeezing the breath out of him with each thrust of my torso.

"Ay, ay!" was all he could manage to say before my mouth descended on his again. I bit his lip and buried my tongue deep in his warm, wet mouth. He gasped for air during the brief moments when I pulled my mouth from his. Warm saliva ran down both our chins as our tongues flicked all about each other's mouth.

Keen to bite, to take control, I put my hands to his shoulders and pinned him even more firmly against the wall. His shoulders were well rounded and full of muscle, but proved no great resistance to the force of my wide palms. Once I was satisfied that he couldn't wiggle his torso even a bit, I dropped my lips down to his hard nipples.

Before I even began nibbling, he moaned. Sensitive, huh? I thought to myself. I'll start slow, but I won't end that way. I took his left nipple, the one below his tiger tattoo, and covered it gently with my warm, wet mouth. He cooed as I swirled my tongue around its point, circling my target like the prey it was. I tried to defer the pain as long as I could, first pinching the nipple with only the force of my firmed lips. But even this had him whimpering. Well, I thought as I smiled, might as well get it over with. I delicately put my front teeth around his nipple tip and bit softly.

"Ay, papi!" he whimpered.

Ay, papi, I thought to myself. Always nice to hear that one.

I bit a moment longer and then returned to lathering his nipple with my tongue, as if trying to soothe it a bit. But I offered only so much consolation before I bit again, this time sending shudders through his muscled chest. I moved to his right nipple and began again.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw that Billy was moving along quickly with the muscle-bound ditz. He was sitting on the edge of the bed and the hunk was kneeling before him with his face lost in Billy's speedo-covered crotch. With a look of pure joy on his face Billy was messing up the hunk's perfectly gelled and spiked hair as the wet mouth moved harder and harder onto his throbbing package.

Billy looked over to see me teasing my stud and threw up his chin and winked in approval. We were both going rough on the pieces of Spanish muscle before us.

Suddenly Billy pulled back the hunk's head by his hair. When his face emerged from Billy's crotch, it was slack with a look of complete stupor. He was being manhandled, and apparently loving it. Billy smiled contentedly at the look of the hunk's face before leaning in to kiss him, leading with his tongue and licking all over the hunk's dazed face.

With a free hand Billy grabbed his bulge and, with a little maneuvering and bending of his hips, freed his cocktip from his black and white striped speedo. Releasing the muscled hunk from his wet kiss, he directed his face back down onto his own crotch. I only caught a glimpse of Billy's cock before it was obscured by the hunk's dark hair, but that quick glimpse made me even harder. Billy's cock was a beautiful thing, a tool perfectly proportioned to his long, lean, and full athlete's body. And its head was so mesmerizingly pink and shiny that horny mouths couldn't help but gravitate towards it. The hunk clearly couldn't resist. I could tell when his soft lips had closed about Billy's tip, for he threw his head back-his platinum blonde, shaggy mane lighting his head like a halo.

After making my own stud squirm repeatedly as I bit away at his nipple, I rose and threw my lips over his again. He leaned hard into the kiss, probing his tongue deep within my warm mouth. It was as if he saying that, despite the groans of pain, he loved what I was doing with his nipples. However, rather than carry on with them, I moved southward.

"You like it?" I said between sucking and biting on his lip.

"Si, si," he replied between hot gasping breaths.

"You want to suck on my cock now, boy?" I stared, tough and steady, into his increasingly soft and docile eyes.

"Si. Dame tu pinga."

"Get down there."

And with that I pushed his firm shoulders down until he was crouching, his back still up against the wall, his nose now grazing my speedo-bound shaft.

"You want that?" I grunted, rocking my hips and smashing my package into his face.

"Si."

He opened his mouth and wrapped his lips around the middle of my fat shaft. Slowly his lips began to massage my sensitive dick and his saliva bleed through my baby blue speedo.

"Good boy," I said, looking down with an approving smile.

As he looked up to smile back I began grinding harder and deeper into his face, muffling his moans and teasing his lips which had a lock around my cock one moment, and then were struggling to find it the next. I laughed to myself as he earnestly tried to keep his mouth around my thick rod, his mouth wandering blind and stupid like a baby animal searching for the next bite of food from its mother. Just when he seemed most desperate, I plowed my crotch back onto his face, smothering him with dick.

Eventually he wrapped his hands around my ass and tried to control my thrusts. He had no real leverage to do so, but I slowed down anyway to help him out. With the extra space and time he managed to move his mouth sideways along my entire shaft, leaving my speedo lathered in his saliva. He was a good cocksucker, I judged, from the way he worked my shaft over. He didn't neglect any inch of my cock, and even took care to nuzzle my balls with his nose and cup them in his tight lips.

Eating dick through a speedo, however, is truly a form of torture. Soon enough I felt his fingertips slip inside the waistband of my speedo. Moments later my ass was bare to the world and my cock was being pulled down by the descending nylon. He pulled slowly and kept his eyes on my cock, waiting for it to make its satisfying spring from the confines of my speedo. He was not to be disappointed. When my cock flapped free it slapped, hard and stiff, against his chin. He paused a moment to behold my massive girth and length, and the grabbed the base of my shaft.

I lifted my head up so as not to see what came next. I, of course, knew what was coming, but years before I had adopted the tradition of not watching as a new cocksucking acqaintance first wrapped his lips around my cocktip. It was a kind of experience I wanted to remember solely by touch. I already had enough mental images of his body and his wet, soft lips-I wanted the memory of his mouth on my cock to be a feeling, not a picture.

And so, with eyes closed, I found myself pleasantly surprised by the first gentle kiss the tiger tattooed hunk bestowed on my hard cocktip. Even more delicate was the smooth closing of his lips about the top third of my shaft. It was unexpected; it was thrilling. Minutes before this tough, tattooed hunk was unapologetically slamming his speedo-bound dick along my ass crack and talking dirty down my back. Now, tables turned, he'd quivered at the nibble of my teeth and accepted my throbbing dick with soft, submissive lips.

I wanted badly to look down and watch his full lips as they slid along my shaft, but I held out. As his lips closed further and further down my shaft, his tongue snaked more fully along the sensitive underside of my cock. He finished each stroke with his lips by slowing down and lavishing his attention and tight lips upon my cocktip. I felt a drop of precum ooze from my dick slit at the end of one of his strokes, and the next sensation I felt was that of the tip of his tongue delicately landing on my cocktip and taking the precious drop with it.

On the edge of the bed Billy's cock was visible every other moment. The hunk's huge hulking back was rising and dropping in quick succession as his lips bobbed swiftly along Billy's wide rod. Billy was leaning back on the bed with his elbows, his head dropped back in delight.

Suddenly, though, Billy's body snapped upright on the bed and he began tugging the hunk upwards by the armpits. In a moment the hunk was standing and Billy was sitting on the bed before him, pulling down his tiny white speedo.

The hunk's cock was fat and full as expected, though I didn't see much of it before Billy's mouth utterly consumed it. Billy's nose was buried in the hunk's bush on his very first gulp of that cock, and the hunk's body shuddered and he tilted his ass back as if he might bust right then and there-deep in the back of Billy's deep throat. Billy smiled when he came off the dick, and then took another big mouthful-this time only half of the shaft. But he still sucked swiftly and furiously, and I wondered if the hunk would make it through one of Billy's wild blowjobs.

Down in my own crotch my tough-turned-tender stud was slowing running his tongue from the underside of my balls, across my smooth sack, and up along the underside of my rod before taking my full tool in his mouth. As his lips were tickled by my trim bush he would invariably gag, pull back his drooling mouth, and begin again under my sack. This I had to see, I finally looked down as he moved along the entire length of my manhood. I put a hand behind his head, up against his close-cropped hair, to muffle the bumps of the hard wall against his bobbing head.

Or at least that's why I put my hand there to begin with. Soon, acutely noticing the leverage between my hand behind his head, his mouth on my dick, and my powerful hips, I began rocking my cock into his mouth. I pushed at unexpected moments and to very deep depths, leaving him disoriented and gagging. After giving his face a few slow, deep pumps I pulled my hips back to let him catch his breath. However, he seemed to need no break and before leaning forward to put his lips back around my cocktip he moaned.

"Si, mas."

The studs gets what the stud wants, I thought, and resumed my slow deep pumps. I felt the tight embrace of his warm throat as my cocktip jammed deep inside him. The sensation was overwhelming and soon, without thinking about, I was slamming fast and hard into his mouth. Muffled gagging noises and saliva escaped his mouth with each backstroke of my dick.

"Shit, J, pound that bitch's mouth!"

I turned to see Billy watching with wide eyes. After giving an appreciative nod I saw his face disappear again behind the bulging ass cheeks of the hunk.

Soon my eyes were back on my hard and fast pumping. At the end of each thrust my heavy balls slapped his chin. My hunk's face was nearly expressionless, overwhelmed and controlled by the force of my thrusting cock.

Soon I felt the surging sensation in my shaft and felt that a firing of jizz was imminent. However, despite the satisfaction there would be in burying my seed deep in that tough tattooed hunk's throat, I knew greater things lay ahead. Mustering as much self-control as was available to me, I extracted my cock from his mouth a final time.

His head was motionless for a moment, and he cooed to himself as the same saliva that dripped off my cock ran out the corners of his lips. Gently, I pulled him to his feet and began tenderly kissing his weary lips and sucking the saliva from his chin. Gradually his eyes and expression brightened and his weary body came to life again. He began returning my kiss with more force and probing his tongue deep in my mouth. For several minutes we simply sucked face, his arms wrapped around my shoulders and my hands resting atop the tiny white speedo covering his firm ass cheeks.

Apparently we were wasting time. I heard a loud, piercing cry and both the tattooed stud and I turned to see the muscled ditz squatting his massive frame onto Billy's dick. Billy was sprawled on his back across the bed, ready to carefully receive on his cock the muscled package above him like it was a load descending from a crane. He pointed his cock-shining with a lather of saliva and lube-and aimed for the hunk's tight hole. The cry we heard indicated he'd hit his mark.

The stud, for all his bulging muscles and pretensions of raw power, was surprisingly dainty as he ever so slowly lowered his bulging ass cheeks towards Billy's crotch. But, to his credit, he took the full length of Billy's tool on his first squat, settling down atop Billy's groin as if he was going to sit there and comfortably read a book for an hour or so.

But I doubt that hunk ever read much, and soon enough his quads with flexing full and wide and his hulking frame was rising. First I saw light between Billy's crotch and the curve of his ass, then I saw Billy's trim bush, then half his shaft, then his tip. But before his tip could so much as feel a small breeze, the hunk's heavy musculature dropped again and Billy's cock disappeared amidst those tight ass cheeks.

After acclimating his hole to Billy's girth, the hunk settled and his cries became moans. He put his hands out behind his torso, on either side of Billy's thighs, and he planted his feet on either side of Billy's chest. So arranged, he deftly dipped his tight hole quickly along Billy's shaft. It looked as if he was exercising, the way his triceps and ass cheeks flexed with each rise of his frame. As he bobbed his body his own fat hard cock flapped about in his crotch, slapping up against his tight abs.

Turning back to my own stud, I decided without his consultation what was to come next. He was promptly turned around by his shoulders, his face to the wall, and I dropped to my knees, my lips kissing his full ass cheeks across the letter "N" in the "Planet 50" stitched across the back of his tiny white speedo.

I had no patience for munching on his muscled ass through a speedo, no matter how tiny or flattering or seductive it was. The barrier between me and my goal had to go. And with a swift tug on the sides of his waistline it did-straight down around his ankles.

His firm cheeks hid his hole, and at first I contented myself with licking along the curves of his cheeks and nibbling wherever I could find skin to pull on those tight slabs of muscle. This was too teasing, for me and him, and his arched back and spreading ass made it clear he wanted more. I moved slowly, first dragging the tip of my nose bottom-to-top along the length of the smooth dark skin of his widening crack. Then I gently put my face against his warm ass, not yet pressing, just feeling his skin against mine. I extended my tongue and slowly snaked it about, not yet hitting the bottom of his crack.

My tiger tattooed stud was growing desperate. I could sense his pink asshole twitching near in the depths of his crack. He arched his back even more and my face slipped an inch deeper between his firm ass cheeks. His entrance was now within the reach of my tongue, and I decided it would be cruel to make him wait a moment more.

When the tip of my tongue touched the eye of his hole, his whole ass quivered against my face. I slowly let the fullness of my warm tongue descend around his tight pink hole, and as he acclimated to the wet embrace and warmth of my tongue his body eased and his tense ass cheeks relaxed.

At first I lapped my tongue across his hole, rhythmically bathing his hole in saliva like a drinking cat. He cooed and I wrapped my palms around his smooth thighs for leverage. His ass crack was smooth and warm, and his hole tasted like sex on my tongue. I licked but didn't probe, teasing him still.

"Oh fuck!"

I reluctantly abandoned my stud's warm ass crack to turn and see Billy's hunk laying facedown on the bed, his face buried in a pillow, his ass arched skyward. Billy's feet were on either side of that big muscle ass and he was squatting low to bury his shining cock deep inside the hunk's tunnel.

"Shit, that is-oh fuck!" Billy exclaimed as he slid in.

Then, leaving his cock deep inside the muscle ditz, he threw his legs back between the hunk's own tree trunk thighs and put his arms wide on either side of the hunk's back. Now laying atop that muscular frame, he began pumping his hips down into the bulging ass below him.

A string of moans from the hunk were muffled by the pillow in his mouth, but Billy seemed to take no notice of them. The hunk's cries grew louder, but Billy began absolutely dropping the full weight of his body on to the stud-both their bodies shaking at the impact of crotch and ass.

Sweet as the taste of my own stud's hole was, I wanted dispense with the tongue treatment and start slamming him right then. However, turning back to that sweet bubble butt bulging before me, I thought it only fair to warm him up.

I tensed my soft tongue into a hard projectile as I wedged my face back between the warm, hard ass cheeks. Quickly I located my mark, and his hole twitched wildly at the feel of my stronger, tighter tongue. I wiggled my face and jawbones into the best, most snug position I could find against those bulges of muscle, and then began prodding, hard and quick, right against his pink hole.

"Ay...si...en mi culo...en mi culo!" His moans were rising and falling in pitch, his voice as out of control as his twitching body. It was hard going as I attempted to slip my tongue past his tight entrance, but as I pushed and pushed and his back arched and arched the tip of my warm tongue breached his defenses. His moans became satisfied coos as my tongue slipped softly along the first inch of his tunnel.

It was hard work slipping my tongue inside his tightness, and soon I was pulling my face back again to rest. However, I gave his hole no rest as I lathered my middle finger in my saliva and put it against the center of his hole. I paused before applying any pressure, letting his asshole understand what was coming. Then, slowly and gently, I slipped my finger's full length into his soft, tight passage.

His ass arched out even more, and I used a free hand to pry apart his ass cheeks as best I could. I began cautiously pumping my finger along his tunnel, watching with delight as the lips of his asshole clung to the sides of my finger each time I pulled it out. It looked as if his asshole hand a will of its own that was demanding that I not leave it empty. To satisfy his hungry hole, I put two fingers together and slowly slipped them in.

The tattooed hunk let ring a wild, indecipherable cry. A spasm jolted across his body. A very sensitive hole, I thought, better be careful now. But soon I noticed his body regaining its composure, his sturdy legs flexing as if to brace himself. His ass once again bent out to me, presenting itself. I paused, watching all this, with my two fingers knuckle-deep inside him. Once I saw how ready he was, I began pumping away into his warm, wet hole.

I pumped for many minutes, though it was torture for my cock which was throbbing unattended between my crouching legs. I looked down to see precum oozing down the underside of my cocktip. I spit into the hand that wasn't finger-fucking my hunk and wrapped my warm, lubed palm around my shaft.

Watching my fingers stretch his hole and overwhelm his body was hot enough, but I wanted my body more fully against his. I began kissing, sucking, and nibbling on his muscular ass cheeks, letting my hot breath fall moist on his warm skin. I slurped and licked, following the graceful curve of his ass from the top of his thigh to his flat and firm lower back. His skin was smooth and delicious, and there was just enough tenderness amongst the muscle for me to be able to bite and massage his ass cheeks as I pleased.

But this still wasn't enough contact for me. There was, of course, one thing I wanted. And, just as I was about to take it for myself, the tough-turned-submissive stud offered it up to me. He turned his head around and his eyes, overwhelmed by the ecstasy, searched for mine hidden behind his own ass. When his dark, hazel eyes found my eager blue eyes he said clearly and sincerely:

"Fuck."

Nothing else was necessary.

In a blur he scampered to a nightstand and returned with an asshole shimmering in lube and a hand slathered in it as well. He quickly wrapped his hand about my fat tool and pumped it several times, my shaft sailing through his curled palm with ease. Then, in another swift twirl, he was up against the wall, his bubble butt perked up and out for the taking.

I was stunned by his eagerness, by his speed. Despite the deep desires of my cock I found myself stepping close up against him, my lubed cock pressed along his ass crack, so I could kiss and lick his ear. He turned his head and his lips met mine. It was a tender, delicate kiss-as if he was asking me to be gentle and I was promising I would. I reached my hands up and pressed them flat between his pecs and the wall. Rocking my hips, I slipped my cock teasingly along the length of his muscle-bound ass crack. I let my abs flex and fill the space between my hard stomach and his tight back. My pecs swelled against his shoulder blades; my smooth thighs pressed their warmth into his.

I was tempted to hold that full embrace. With just a little rocking of my hips the heat and lust of all that muscled contact could have made me blow my load up into the tight space between my front and his back. And then we could have lingered together still-my hot jizz spreading as our bodies pressed tighter together.

But my cock wouldn't allow this, and soon I was pulling my chest off his back so I could look down to aim my cocktip at his hole. I dipped my hips and found my target. My hands, still atop the hunk's firm pecs, felt him gasp before my ears heard anything. I gently rubbed along his chest, making one last assurance of gentleness before I slowly pushed my throbbing cock into his ass.

I was in his tight ass half-hilt when he cried out and threw his hand back onto my hip. I stopped pushing my cock but didn't pull out-and he didn't seem to want me to. Instead I kept my full girth inside his hole as he slightly swirled his ass about, arched his back slightly, and tried to relax his many-muscled backside. I put my lips gently upon his shoulders to soothe his worries, and he dropped his head back alongside mine. My tongue and lips found his ear, then his cheek, then his mouth. He hardly had any control over his lips-all his attention and concern was down circling his delicate hole. I tried to massage life back into his slack lips. Eventually he began to return my kiss and meet my probing tongue with growing purpose.

"You want more?" I asked, my hot breath in his face.

"Si. Toma mi culo. Toma."

I wrapped my arms tight about his chest, flexed my ass, and sent my fat cock inching into his depths. He moaned, on the verge of crying out again, but my hands massaging his chest and my lips kissing along his neck kept him relaxed. Soon I felt my bush tickle his ass cheeks and my balls graze the tops of his smooth hamstrings.

"Perfecto," he cooed, his head dropping further back.

A quick shudder came over him as I retracted my dick in full, but it quickly dissipated as the ministrations of my massaging hands and lips calmed his body. I felt the final tight squeeze of his hole against my tender cocktip and then, after pausing for a brief moment, sent my full manhood back inside him.

Soon my full, gentle thrusts assumed a slow rhythm. Each time my cock reached his deepest depths I let my body firmly press into his, my pecs into his shoulders, my hard abs into his firm back. The heat coming from our bodies was intense, and soon beads of sweat on my chest became droplets on his back that ran down into his smooth ass crack.

"Fuck that shit," Billy commanded.

I looked behind me to acknowledge the encouragement but discovered instead that he hadn't been talking to me at all.

All I could see of Billy were his arms and legs as they supported him, bent over on the bed, while a massive muscled back and ass came at him from behind. The muscled hunk was kneeling behind him and rocking his hips forward into Billy's ass. His thrusts were a sight to see from behind-his enormous muscled ass throbbed with each push from his crotch. Knowing Billy, I knew any hopes we may have had for a mostly quiet fucking session were now lost.

"Oh shit, you big bitch!" Billy cried as the hunk's ass cheeks were at full flex, his huge rod buried deep inside Billy.

"Ow, ow, ow. You motherFUCKER!" he cried. It was standard Billy, but the muscle ditz was a little confused.

"Ees OK?"

"What?" Billy asked in a somewhat normal voice, somewhat annoyed to be pulled from his ecstasy.

"OK? Fine?"

I saw Billy's face as he turned back to look at the big stud. He was definitely agitated, he face seemed to say: why the fuck are you stopping?

"Yeah, yeah, dude," he said, mustering what little patience he had.

"Oh, OK."

"C'mon. Fuck me, you dumb bitch." Billy was a true charmer sometimes. Thankfully, the muscled stud was oblivious to the specifics of what Billy said, though the tone was hard to miss.

"Ay-ay-ay." The big hunk, resuming his thrusts, was now crushing his huge frame into Billy's backside. His hips and thighs smacked slaps against Billy's tight ass as his formidable power was brought to bear on Billy's asshole.

"Oh, shit! So nice, so nice."

My own cock was throbbing at the sight of this. I began quickening the pace of my thrusting into my own stud. He didn't seem to mind, so I accelerated more, my body slapping against his, the sweat spraying with each impact. The tiger tattooed hunk arched his back and gave me his full ass to fuck. Soon I was slamming his ass and he was reaching down to his crotch to stroke along with his own cock.

For minutes upon minutes, the room was filled with the same sounds: the crying profanities of Billy, the moans of my hunk, and the slapping of sweaty skin on sweaty skin, of muscle on muscle, of body on body.

"Fuck-my-hole!"

"Ay, ay. Si."

My wet balls, drenched in sweat, slapping my hunk's smooth hamstrings.

"Shit, shit! Oh fuck. Fuck! Fuck!"

"Ooooh, si, si."

The muscled ditz's huge thighs slapping against Billy's.

There were no adjustments to be made, no better position to find. It was hot, hard fucking, and we kept at it happily.

Eventually, my hunk dropped his head back again and said, his expression dazed with overwhelming lust, "I want fuck."

I couldn't argue with that. I pulled my tender cock from his overworked ass and spun him around by the shoulders. Looking adoringly on his beautiful face, his full lips, his hazel eyes, I leaned in and put my lips over his.

I turned to put my own body up against the wall, but he stopped me.

"No, go to the bed."

"OK."

"I be there. Un momento. OK?"

He was turning towards the bathroom door. I figured he was grabbing lube so I made for the bed.

"God! Damn! It!"

Billy was still receiving the pounding of his life. Now I could walk around and watch it head on-the muscled torso, huge pecs and all, crashing against Billy's backside. Billy didn't see me, his head was hanging down between his arms, his platinum blonde hair obscuring his face entirely. He seemed to be looking back to watch his hard, flopping cock slap against his tight abs each time the muscled stud's frame collided with his ass. I moved over for a side view. The muscle ditz had an enormous tool, and was quite adept at plunging it deep within Billy's body. He was carefully angling his hips this way or that, ever so slightly, to make sure his full length was buried between the ass cheeks. And he was making big, luxurious strokes-his cocktip slipping past the clench of Billy's pink hole with each pull and with each push driving his pubes against Billy's ass crack. The stud was focused on his work-clearly his mind could not do many things at once. But he did eventually notice me.

"You fuck me?" he suggested matter-of-factly.

At this Billy's face appear from amidst the disheveled hair.

"Yes, dude," he said with conviction. "Fuck this bitch right now."

I had no choice, it seemed. My tiger tattooed hunk hadn't yet returned from the bathroom so I freely mounted the bed and knelt behind the huge stud.

My stomach and pecs now up against his massive backside, I realized what a muscled behemoth he was. To look at him from a distance, even a short one, his muscled frame looked big but proportioned. Up close his body was overwhelming, and unbelievably alluring.

I put my hands around his torso and found that my big, wide hands couldn't come close to covering his swollen pecs. I tried to get a better grip on him and brought my front flush up against his huge back. I immediately noticed how his huge, firm ass cheeks completely filled my crotch. My cock was quickly lodged tightly in his crack. I leaned against him and rode with the force of his body as he continued to grind his frame against Billy's body.

After a minute he stilled his thrusting so he could rock his ass up and down along my cock. It was a tight fit but an amazing sensation. My still lubed cock smoothly slipped along his tight, dark skin.

Billy quickly wondered why he wasn't getting pounded anymore. He turned to see the muscled hunk's head turned and his lips locked with my own. Billy watched as we probed each other's mouths with our tongue, but he quickly grew impatient.

"Dude, get on that shit," he called to me.

I reluctantly broke our kiss and pushed the muscled stud forward at his shoulders, bending his ass out for me to enter.

It was a snug but quick fit. Both his ass and my cock were already lubed and his ass had been well prepared by Billy. My full length swiftly filled his tunnel. A moment later I was firming my grip on his giant pecs and beginning to furiously pump my meat into his ass.

He was overwhelmed. He stopped thrusting into Billy, so now my hard pumps had to push hard enough to plow two holes. I was up for the challenge.

"Slam that bitch, dude. Ah...Jesus!"

Perhaps it wasn't fair to assume this, but I figured a strong body such as that could take a thrusting twice as tough and hard as that I had given my tattooed hunk. I was probably wrong, for the muscled ditz began moaning like I hadn't heard before. But he still seemed happy with the filling he was receiving, so I slammed away. Owning his ass so completely, I rounded out the performance by pinching hard on his nipples-I wanted to control his huge body in every way I could. Soon I was biting the smooth, firm skin of his shoulders-all the while drilling my cock within him as hard as I could.

I tried to focus on how completely I was dominating that massive stud, but soon enough all I could feel was the throbbing in my cock. Not yet, I begged, and reluctantly slowed down my fucking.

But the hunk was still eager. He began doing the thrusting-slamming his ass into my crotch, then propelling his hips forward into Billy's ass. Billy and I held our bodies firm as he threw his body back and forth between us.

It was always a terrific feeling, sitting back and letting a bottom do all the work. But to know every time he left my rod he was drilling with his own-well, that was thrilling.

Soon my admiration for the muscled ditz was interrupted by the hands of the tiger tattooed hunk on my shoulders. Without a word, I arched my back and presented my ass to him.

The next thing I felt was his finger, lubed and eager, slowly breaching my hole and sliding deep into my ass. Normally I would have tensed or winced, by the treatment the stud before me was giving to my cock left me relaxed and distracted. The tattooed hunk noticed this and wasted no time pumping his finger, then adding a second. A minute later a lubed, full cocktip was slipping inside me.

On his first full thrust into my depths, my body shuddered. The tattooed hunk threw his warm arms around me and, steadying his torso against my back, began rocking his hips and plunging his fullness inside me. He was thick, and his first thrusts were more pleasure than pain, but his tender touch and the kisses he laid on my neck soothed me. Soon my head was thrown back and my body was aflame with the feel of another inside me-a fat cock satisfying stretching my soft tunnel.

It was an amazing sensation. My body was held still while two sets of hips grinded against me-front and back. No work needed to be done on my part, other than marvel at the muscle sandwich inside of which I currently found myself.

Say what you will about gay sex, but it's the only place where you can fuck and be fucked in such a natural, satisfying way. My body hardly felt like it belonged to me-I had offered my cock to the mass of muscle before me and yielded my ass to the owner of the wet, warm lips that were roaming my neck. It was no pure meeting of souls, to be sure, but it was a union of bodies-hard, muscled, tanned bodies-that could not be denied.

As usual, when I started to wax philosophical, Billy brought me back to earth.

"Oh-shit-oh-shit."

Suddenly the stud before me stopped thrusting and I saw Billy rise before him-his blonde hair damp with sweat and his cock glistening with lube. No sooner had he put his hand to his shaft and pointed it at the stud's face than a jet of cum leaped forth. It hit the stud, as far as I could tell from behind, square in the face. Before another spurt could issue forth, the stud took his shaft in his mouth and hungrily closed his lips.

"Oh, dude...dude!" Billy exclaimed, beginning to pull his sensitive cock from the stud's tight lips before thinking better of it and leaving his raw rod in the stud's mouth. I watched as Billy's body shook and gob after gob of cum emptied into the stud's mouth. Billy threw his hands around the stud's head and pushed it down onto his twitching meat.

"God. Damn!" The stud began pumping his lips along Billy's swollen shaft. I looked up at Billy's hard pecs and rigid abs glistening with sweat. He looked exhausted but triumphant.

Since the stud before me was no longer backing his ass onto my cock, I decided to be proactive. I began thrusting my hips into his bulging ass cheeks. Soon the tattooed hunk behind me stopped his own pumping and I became the ball bouncing back and forth between those two walls of muscle. I pushed my ass back hard, arching my back and spreading my ass cheeks, impaling myself on the hunk's fat tool. And I crashed forward hard too, slamming my dick up to the hilt in the massive stud's hole. It was a thrill to be servicing two gorgeous bodies at the same time, but I did not have long to think about it.

"Ay, ay!" the tiger tattooed hunk cried, and he began thrusting again. His forward pumps met my backward thrusts in heavy crashes. Neither of us yielded to the other, we both slammed harder and harder, knowing full well what was coming.

He cried out once more and then his body froze, mid-thrust, and I felt his hot jizz spurting along my tight tunnel. His body shook and his dick pulsed, deep inside me. I began to push my ass back onto his rod, but he held my body still-his cock too sensitive to take the close, clenching strokes of my warm insides. I waited as his moans softened and his breathing slowed, and then I pushed back my ass yet again. This time he received it, thrusting forward ever so slowly. After a few pumps I felt his warm cum along the length of my tunnel, and a few more pumps after that I felt a slow trail of cum oozing from my ass crack and onto my smooth thigh.

Cum to my front, cum in my back, but things were hardly over.

The massive stud before me was next. He was jerking his own cock as I plowed his ass and Billy fed him his cum-covered cock, so it was no surprise that he was ready to bust. We all guessed what was coming as his moans grew louder and more erratic. However, while the tattooed hunk and I were content to let the muscled stud tend to his own business, Billy had other plans.

"You gonna cum?" he asked urgently.

"Si...si," the huge stud stuttered out between heavy breaths.

"Not yet."

Billy quickly dropped on all fours before the stud and offered him his familiar asshole.

"Cum in my ass."

"En tu culo?" the stud seemed confused.

Billy took hold of his cock and guided its tip to his ass. From what I could tell from behind the stud's wide, muscled back the instant his cocktip disappeared inside Billy it began gushing a warm load.

Billy murmured approvingly as his tunnel was plastered with jizz. Once he received the main spurts from the stud's thick cock, he began slamming his ass back onto the stud, whose body first shuddered, then broke into spasms as Billy's tight asshole overwhelmed his raw cock.

The spasms were what set my own cock stirring, but they weren't what pushed me over the edge. The tattooed hunk behind me had pulled his cock from my weary hole and now, with his delicate tongue, was lapping up the cum that was dribbling down my thighs. His tongue moved softly, and it followed each trail of cum from its lowest drip to its source, lathering my asshole in a mix of his warm saliva and hot jizz. That was what set me off.

My ass cheeks clenched, my hips thrust out one last time, a primitive cry rang out from my throat, and I dumped my load into the massive hunk before me. He, for his part, hardly noticed. Billy, after taking his load, had leapt to his feet and now the muscled ditz was performing on Billy the same act my hunk was performing on me-diligently licking all the cum from Billy's ass crack. His strong jaws buried amid Billy's firm ass cheeks, I couldn't tell if any expression whatsoever broke over his face when I pumped him full of jizz.

Somewhat put off by this, I enacted a small revenge by slamming my cum-covered cock along his tunnel with such force that I shook his face from Billy's ass crack. Not deterred, he promptly stuck his head right back in, lapping up every last drop of spunk he could find.

Still, it was okay, for I had my own hunk to tend to me. I pulled my sticky shaft from the stud and was immediately spun around by the hunk behind me. He pushed me down on the bed and, throwing his torso atop my thighs, took my tired tool into his mouth and began slowly sucking my rod clear of cum. I watched at first as his sweet soft lips delicately moved along my tender cock, but soon I let my head fall back into the soft, warm bed sheets. My pulse slackened, my breathing slowed, and the sweat all over my body began to cool.

Soon Billy threw his head down next to mine. He rested on his front, not his back, so his own stud could continue mining his ass crack for cum. Billy and I looked at each other and, seeing the utter exhaustion and satisfaction in one another's faces, smiled wide. Billy reached out a hand and ran it softly through my sandy blonde hair.

"Fucking hot, dude. Fucking hot."

"Yeah," I muttered in assent, putting a hand on the warm, firm bicep of Billy's outstretched arm.

And so we rested-a mouth on my cock and a tongue in Billy's ass crack-in utter bliss.

We could have lay like that forever, but things can only ever be close to perfect, never the genuine article.

It was the sudden thud of a hand against the room's sliding glass door that reminded me that there was a world outside our little den of sex. Indeed, I had to be reminded that there was a world beyond that of our four naked bodies, our four hard cocks, the thrust of the tattooed hunk's fat cock, and the tightness of the massive muscle stud's asshole.

All four of us snapped our heads towards the noise in the same instant, and good thing we did. For otherwise we would have missed the sight of a buff, muscled bear spraying his load against the glass door. He had thrown his hand upon the glass in a throe of ecstasy, and it was all that was supporting the flexing muscles of his shuddering frame. We all watched intently as he tugged his sensitive shaft, delicately pulling further spurts and then dribbles of cum onto the glass. Finally regaining control over his body and, looking through the glass to see our intent stares, he blushed briefly before confidently using his swollen tool to smear his cum across the glass.

He was not alone. We came to realize that in the three different gaps in our room's curtains, onlookers from the pool deck had clustered together for a peep at our foursome. Hard cocks appeared in every gap. Some stroked themselves, some stroked fellow onlookers. I noticed another spot on the glass where a spattering of cum spoke to the hotness of our fuck show.

All four of us took this in, bashfully trying to both see and avoid the stares directed our way. Then, one by one, we turned our direction back inside the room and to one another. Shaking our heads in disbelief, we laughed.

"Was a very good fuck, yes?" the tiger tattooed stud asked, now resting the side of his tired face on my thigh.

"Of course," I agreed, crouching forward to plant a tender kiss on his lips.

"Hot as shit, dude," Billy said, clapping a hand on his muscled stud's massive shoulders.

My tattooed hunk stood and searched for his speedo. He found it, picked it up, and stopped midway through bending over to put it back on.

"You want, ah, como se dice...ah, you want present for, ah home?" he asked.

"A souvenir?" I suggested.

"Si, si," he eyes lit up. "Souvenir. You want?"

"Sure."

"OK, you take my," he said, giddily putting his tiny white speedo in my hands, "and I take yours."

I laughed.

"Sounds about right. What do you say, Billy?"

"Huh?"

"Swap speedos with these guys?"

The massive stud offered his own small white speedo to Billy.

Taking it in his hands, Billy spread it open and put his nose in its crotch, taking a deep sniff. His eyes closed as the scent overwhelmed him.

"Totally, dude," he said, and then smiled at the huge stud and laid a kiss on him in appreciation.

"I don't think they're worth 80 Euros a pop, you know," I added.

But Billy was basking in the glow of our sex and could not be bothered to reason.

"Whatever, dude."

"Can't argue with that, I guess."

We all slipped into our new speedos, each admiring each other's packages as we stuffed our half-hard cocks into the tight nylon, lycra, and spandex. The tiny white speedos were tiny indeed, and nearly transparent, it seemed. It was a good trade on our part.

"Well," the tattooed stud announced, "I think we go now to see our aficionados, yes?"

I smiled. "Yes, our adoring fans."

And with a surprising spring in his step and wide smile on his face my hunk swung open the curtains and sliding door. The gathered crowd, suddenly nervous, parted to make a path from the doorway out onto the terraces of the pool deck. Smiling at the bashful faces before him, the hunk took two giant leaps and then cannonballed into the pool. Smiling at each other, Billy and I followed right behind, jackknifing into the water with a big, obnoxious splash. The muscled ditz followed close behind and, topping us all, nearly emptied the pool of water with his crashing flop.

We laughed, giggled, and wrestled about in the water. Our newfound intimacy made the playful teasing between us easy to come by. Soon I was up, sitting atop the massive stud's shoulders, doing battle with the tiger tattooed hunk's muscular arms as he crouched atop Billy's tall shoulders. We played on and on, our bodies momentarily forgetting how weary they were from our sustained fucking. But eventually our energy sagged and the Planet boys had to head onto their next advertising location. Billy and I made for the lounge chairs to rest. Before I pulled myself from the pool and parted ways with my tattooed hunk, he cornered me at one end of the pool and wrapped me tenderly in his arms.

"You are beautiful boy."

"Thank you." I blushed, deeply.

"Is true."

"You are too."

"No."

He was bashful. I looked now again at his tough fa‡ade and marveled at the submissiveness, the tenderness I had coaxed from him.

"Yes."

And with that I gave him one last kiss and turned away.

"Beautiful boy," he called.

"Yeah?"

He face suddenly lost its tenderness.

"Ten cuidado."

"What?"

He stared intently at me, his eyes full of concern.

"Be careful."

We had become celebrities of the pool terraces, and as such we were not allowed to return our tired bodies to the comfortable lounge chairs without some invasions of privacy.

"Can we take picture?" a voice behind me said as I sat on my chair.

I turned around to see two lithe and smooth Spanish twinks standing before me, tight packages filling their speedos, one dark green and one red with white polka dots.

"Umm, sure, why not?" I mused aloud.

They giddily tittered between themselves in reply.

Without the least warning one of them was suddenly sprawled in my lap, his arms around my neck and his smooth legs raised up in a playful kicking pose.

"Wow," I muttered to myself.

The boy in my lap, whose tight little ass was flush atop my half-hard cock, began yipping orders to his friend using the camera. After a few digital beeps and forced smiles, the twink leapt from my lap to inspect the photos.

I caught some of their quick Spanish conversation.

"...mas major que anoche."

They turned to me.

"Is very cute."

"Oh, good," I said, trying to sound interested, but likely failing.

"Picture before not very good."

"Hmm?" I asked, not quite understanding his broken English.

"Here," he said, sitting down beside my on my chair and showing me the LCD screen on the back of his camera.

He began beeping through a series of images. The ones just taken. His friend smoking outside a club. Him downing a shot. His friend grinding against someone in the darkness of a club. The two of them before the mirror in the hotel bathroom, dolled up for the club. Sunset on the beach. A series of candid photos of hot guys at the beach. (Which he blushingly tried to explain away in a few rapid sentences, all in indecipherable Spanish.) Another night at the club. Drinking. Dancing. And...me. Then me again. And again. And again.

I wasn't posing with the boy or his friend in these others photos. I was onstage at a club-it looked to be Planet 10 from the illuminated orbs hanging from the ceiling in the background of the photos. I was wearing a tiny, glitter-encrusted speedo. Then I was pulling it down, showing off my ass, the raised hands of a crowd in the foreground of the photo. Then I was naked, onstage, pulling on my half-hard cock. Then it was hard, and the crowd's hands reached higher, fingers spread wide. Then Billy was onstage next to me. Then he was on his knees, my cock in his mouth, the crowd now appearing deliriously wild. Then...then we were fucking, onstage, my cock lodged in Billy's ass. Then we were joined by a third who sucked off Billy as I fucked him. The boy was passing through the photos quickly, as if they were old news. But I scanned the frames quickly and noticed the face and hazel eyes of our fellow performer: Rodrigo, the shower intruder.

My mind was reeling. When the boy finally found the photo he wanted, one of he and I arms around each other's shoulders, I could barely bring my eyes to focus. When I did I barely noticed the sour expression on the boy's face which apparently made the photo a bad one, but I did look deeply into the part of the image bearing my wide, frenzied eyes. I looked hard at my likeness and despite acknowledging that it was indeed me and no one else, I also felt there was something off about the overdone smile on my face and happiness in my eyes. I knew instantly that the me in the photo was in the grip of some heady intoxicant.

Billy, who had been chatting up some of his own fans, sat down in the chair next to me and smiled at my two admirers.

"Well, what going on over here?" he asked with an amused look on his face.

My body tense, my adrenalin pumping-I grabbed his arm and said firmly through clenched teeth, "We're leaving."

"Just to be clear, dude: you're sure it was you?"

Billy was sitting on the bed back in our room, watching skeptically as I dug my hands wildly into the depths of our suitcases, searching.

"What?" I looked up, annoyed.

"You're sure?"

I stopped digging and turned to face Billy head on, projecting the full strength of my muscled torso in his direction.

"Yes, it was me. And it was you."

"Are you-"

"It was you, dipshit. Sucking my cock, getting fucked by me in front of hundreds of people."

A daydream and a smile momentarily broke over Billy's face.

"Hot."

"Fucking idiot," I said as I launched a wad of dirty laundry at him and then resumed my search.

"Hey!" he seemed more amused than anything.

"Shut up!"

I was growing more and more frustrated.

"Where is that fucking camera?!"

"Take it easy, J."

"No, dammit," I yelled. "I want to know what the fuck is going on!"

My body tired from the sex, my mind weary from its panicked wondering, I was nearly in tears. Billy leapt up from the bed and put his arms on my shoulders.

"Don't worry. It'll be fine," he said soothingly.

I wasn't buying it and he could tell. He threw his arms close around me, bringing his warm chest against mine. His powerful, tight grip held still me jittering body. Then he spoke softly in my ear.

"Whatever happens, we'll figure it out together."

I was crying now.

"Right?" he asked as he squeezed my body deeply before releasing me and looking deep into my eyes.

"Sure."

A smile, affectionate smile spread across his face.

"Cool, dude. Now what can I do?"

I wiped my eyes and regained some composure.

"Could you call that Marcus guy-the number's on that note there-and tell him we can't come to lunch today."

"Sure."

As Billy turned to find the note and grab the phone, I turned back to our bags. Our passports were still there, as were our wallets and watches and iPods and everything else of value. I took confidence in that. And the ring was still there. Wait, I thought to myself, where the fuck had that ring come from again? My ephemeral blast of confidence was gone.

I picked up the ring and held it up, turning to Billy.

"Do you know where-?"

Billy's eyes saw the ring and immediately they darted away from it as he put the phone to his ear and a hushing finger in front of his lips.

As Billy began talking I ducked into the bathroom to start loading up a backpack for the beach. Suncreen, iPods, a book, towels, water bottles. We were still wearing our newly won white speedos-mine under a pair of khaki shorts and Billy's under a baggy pair of mesh gym shorts. I decided to throw into the bag an assortment of Billy's many speedos for us to choose from when we got there. However today's trip to the beach wasn't about tanning and parading our muscles about as on the days before, it was about finding Rodrigo in his purple speedo and demanding answers.

"Um, alright. I guess that's OK."

I heard the hesitation in Billy's voice and walked out of the bathroom to listen.

"Um, sure. I guess," he said calmly as he looked at me with bewildered eyes. "I guess we'll be right down. OK, bye."

I furrowed my brow and Billy saw my confusion, which he seemed to share.

"So, dude, that was the guy-Marcus or whatever."

"Yeah."

"He said he was worried we might not be able to find our way, so he sent his driver just in case."

"His driver?"

"Yeah, J." He sounded just as dumbstruck as I was. "The guy's apparently downstairs waiting for us.

"Jesus."

"Yeah."

We both paused a moment, unsure what to make of this information or what to do next.

"I guess we go then, huh?" Billy suggested cautiously.

I paused a moment longer to think. Maybe it wasn't so strange after all, I thought. The guy was simply rich and eager to show his gratitude to me for saving his life. It would be a diversion, but whatever, only a minor one.

"Yeah, let's go," I said decisively, picking up my packed bag and turning to the door.

Billy had slipped on a pair of more formal shorts and as we descended the staircase to the lobby we both awkwardly fumbled our way into a pair of nice polo shirts-mine bearing the Olympic rings and the Team U.S.A. logo embroidered on its breast.

"Dude, this day is fucked up," Billy said as he stuffed his shirttail into his shorts, pulling his polo taut against his firm pecs and nipples.

"No kidding."

"Total chaos. My mind is fucked."

I laughed at Billy's lightheartedness about it all. I remembered yet again how good he was to have around in tough times.

"Well, I'm not totally lost," I said with a smile.

"What?"

"Some things make sense."

"Really, dude. What?"

"You those pictures, how I said I was wearing the glitter speedo?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, that wasn't all I had on."

Billy's eyes were wide.

"What else, dude?!"

I paused before a doorway. Billy's eyes were looking for the clue that would solve it all, that would explain away all our worries. I didn't have that, not by a long shot. But I did have one answer that was surprisingly satisfying. In every picture that the twink had taken of me in the club, whether I was in or out of my speedo-dancing, sucking, or fucking-, I wore the same thing atop my head.

"A crown."

And with another sly smile I pushed the door open and walked past him into the lobby. Behind me, I heard Billy's awed voice as he put two and two together.

"Long live the motherfucking king."

End of Part I

--James (swimmingcock81@yahoo.com)